Harry Potter and The Heart of a Rat
by Kikkuli
Summary: There are many things Harry Potter shouldn't do while ridiculously drunk or high: listening to his equally wasted friend's 'brilliant ideas' is one. Hello past, hello future! Never fear, Wizarding World: Peter Pettigrew, Gilderoy Lockhart and Dolores Umbridge have come to save you! Er, yay? [Mostly HP, some Naruto, Ranma, Twilight, NGE] HP/Multi, R/H, SB/NB Time/dimensional travel
1. Table of Contents

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 **Harry Potter and the Heart of a Rat**

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Eyes mean a lot. Like a barometer. They tell you everything – who has a heart of stone, who would poke the toe of his boot in your ribs as soon as look at you, and who's afraid of you, the cowards …

– Mikhail Bulgakov, _The Heart of a Dog_

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Summary:

There are many things a wizard or witch shouldn't do while ridiculously drunk or high: flying, apparition, spellcrafting, Quidditch, Quodpot, microsurgery, wand repair, transfiguration and magical oaths, just to name a few. But listening to one of your equally wasted friend's 'brilliant ideas' is another one of the things you just shouldn't do. Now he's been hurled into the past, is surrounded by enemies domestic and foreign, and stuck wearing the skin of a cowardly, traitorous rat bastard. Never fear, Wizarding World – Peter Pettigrew, Gilderoy Lockhart and Dolores Umbridge are here to save you all! Er, yay?

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Author's Note:

This is both a HP reworking of **"Back to the Future"** themes, and a soft reboot/reworking of the time travel tale **"Hair of the Grim"** by Nightmare Sired Muse. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is **"Odd Ideas"** and other writings by Rorschach's Blot. Used **with** the permission of their original authors (except for "Back to the Future" of course).

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Pairings:

Harry Potter(*Peter Pettigrew)/Multi (Apolline Delacour, Pandora Lovegood, Mrs Zabini, Lily Evans, possibly others), Ron/Hermione, Gilderoy Lockhart/Dolores Umbridge, Sirius Black/Narcissa Black, Remus Lupin/Mary MacDonald, James Potter/Amelia Bones, Frank Longbottom/Alice McKinnon.

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Crossovers:

Primarily Harry Potter, but contains some elements from: Naruto, Ranma ½, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Lord of the Rings, Twilight, Avatar: the Last Airbender, Inuyasha, Simpsons, Red Dwarf, Blackadder, and others (see Disclaimer section below).

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World:

Canon-compliant. HP&DH compliant (except the Epilogue). HP&CC compliant (except the conclusion). FB&WTFT compliant. Pottermore compliant (mostly).

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Rating:

Rated M for violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.

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Disclaimer:

The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I make no profit from any fiction.

I do not own Harry Potter, Alice in Wonderland, Anchorman, Austin Powers, Avatar: the Last Airbender, Blackadder, The Barber of Seville, the Bible, Dirty Harry, Discworld, Dragonball Z, Evil Dead, How It Should Have Ended, Farscape, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Futurama, Game of Thrones, Inglourious Basterds, Great Expectations, Heart of Darkness, Indiana Jones, Inuyasha, Keeping Up Appearances, Lolita, The Lone Ranger, The Lord of the Rings, The Marriage of Figaro, Mazes and Monsters, Monte Python, Naruto, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Pinky and the Brain, Pokémon, Popeye, The Princess Bride, Ranma ½, Red Dwarf, Robot Chicken, The Simpsons, Snakes on a Plane, South Park, Star Trek, Star Wars, Terminator 2, The Thousand and One Nights, Troll 2, Tomb Raider, Twilight, Yes Prime Minister, White Chicks, and the works of Edgar Allen Poe, HP Lovecraft, Roald Dahl, Shakespeare, or anything else.

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 **Table of Contents and Chapter Descriptions**

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 **Part 1: Harry Potter vs Time**

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 **2\. Prologue – We Can't Stop Here, This is Rat Country**

And they thought that dabbling in the Dark Arts while under the influence of a galaxy of mind-altering substances would be good for a chuckle. How wrong they were!

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 **3\. Chapter 1 – The Loveliness of Lists**

As the manual says, Don't Panic. Just think: What Would Hermione Do (WWHD) in this situation? Pettigrew's secret admirers.

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 **4\. Chapter 2 – The Obligatory Visit to Gringotts and Obtaining a New Wand Chapter with Meta Title**

What it says on the tin. Harry acclimatises to his verminous form, goes window-shopping, and makes the Black family an offer they'd prefer to refuse.

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 **5\. Chapter 3 – So You've Ended Up in the Past and Now Inhabit the Body of a Mortal Enemy: A User's Guide**

Shady deals with shady staffmembers. Harry and the Marauders help Remus with his time of the month. James Potter learns why one should not keep an owl waiting.

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 **6\. Chapter 4 – The Right Rite**

Mama never warned him 'bout dem redheads. When lost in the middle of the Forbidden Forest at midnight, don't forget to look up. The first unresearched ritual turned out so well, the only logical thing to do is another unresearched ritual! What could possibly go wrong?

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 **7\. Chapter 5 – Snuggle Bunnies**

Things go wrong. A brief stay in the Hospital Wing for our intrepid rule-breakers. Harry attempts some self-surgery, with expected (for him) results.

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 **8\. Chapter 6 – The Truth Comes Out, or Close Enough for Government Work**

Secrets are revealed, artefacts unveiled, Padfoot's prognostications, and the Potter family's pontifications. James suffers a bit of a disappointment. He does not take it well. Lily loses her temper. He does not take that well either. Lies, damn lies and official paperwork.

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 **Part 2: Peter Pettigrew vs The Knights of Walpurgis**

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 **9\. Chapter 7 – The Battle of Hogwarts**

Pettigrew enjoys the benefits of a brisk constitutional. There's nothing more exciting than exercise: you get all the fun of burning lungs, aching limbs, whining friends, and getting up before the sun does. Exercise has it all. Harry makes a disconcerting but welcome discovery. A thrilling, high-stakes match of exploding snap between two high-school students! Bellatrix Black reaps the whirlwind. Half of the school gets in on the fun; they create a desert and call it a job well done.

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 **10\. Chapter 8 – The Fall of the House of Slytherin**

Harry gains two blonde sidekicks from Ravenclaw Tower. An adamantine Apolline assiduously acquires additional adjuncts for Harry's household. Strange occurrences amongst the Knights of Walpurgis. Ministry mystified! Aurors angered!

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 **11\. Chapter 9 – In-A Garden of Slytherin, Baby**

Salazar had good taste, but lousy naming skills. While Ron has bad taste, but a great memory. The return of an unexpected redhead. The time travellers discover Great Science!

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 **12\. Chapter 10 – The Well-Laid Plans of Mice and Men**

The trouble with time travel. Pandora and Xenophilius' background. The Spark of Genius! Or, the Spark of Madness! Take your pick. The adventures of the Cursed Child and his long-suffering companions. The third member of their trio is discovered, and Ron's girlfriend is most displeased with him. The demise of Project GHTUFDOS. The irresponsible duo are taken to task for their reckless disregard for the laws of time and space.

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 **13\. Chapter 11 – Marriages and Mistresses**

Harry tries to matchmake, and has the tables turned on him. Turns out he's not very good at it. A new business venture is launched. Pandora and Lily haggle.

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 **14\. Chapter 12 – Bonding with Blacks**

The paranoia of Narcissa Black. Orion Black arrives at Hogwarts to reprimand his reckless charges. Harry explains his evil plans for world domination. The peregrinations of Walburga Black. Narcissa gains a hero, Sirius gains an ulcer and Lily gains a roommate.

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 **Part 3: Dolores Umbridge vs The Daily Prophet**

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 **15\. Chapter 13 – Gadding with Ghouls**

Harry becomes a Ghostbuster, yet encounters something far more terrifying than ghosts – lawyers. Occlumency lessons without the greasy git. Our lead joins geriatric Jim's gym. The Ministry of Magic's newest Deputy Code Inspector (DCI) walks his beat, meets many of the denizens of Diagon and its side streets, and acquires a variety of surprising new tutors.

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 **16\. Chapter 14 – Marauding with Marge**

Another bird in the hand. Unpleasant time travel revelations. DCI Harry is on the case. Specifically, he's on the case of going to the muggle world to visit his 'beloved' relatives and 'repay' them for all their 'hard work' and 'sacrifice' in raising him for all those years. A house elf demonstrates his golf swing.

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 **17\. Chapter 15 – Holidays with Hippies**

Harry and Lily share an embarrassing encounter. Meeting the folks. An interesting car ride. Some unexpected visitors arrive and the Evanses lay out the welcome mat. The strange saga of a girl's wardrobe. Lily becomes homeless.

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 **18\. Chapter 16 – A Princedom by the Sea**

Lily and her mother visit Château Delacour for the Christmas Break. Apolline and Lily 'bond', to her father's consternation. Harry and Apolline take the gloves off. Harry receives a shocking revelation and takes appropriate action. Good times with weapons.

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 **19\. Chapter 17 – Diplomacy**

Harry introduces his giant snake to his collection of snakes. The Fall of the House of Malfoy. Lily receives some bad news. Sirius' preferred type of secretaries and preferred use for doxies.

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 **20\. Chapter 18 – Abraxas' Adventures Through the Foe Glass**

Pandora's revenge complete. The Aurors come a-visitin', and the greatest alibi a man can have. The usefulness of phoenixes. Ron flexes his magic skills.

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 **21\. Chapter 19 – A Cunning Plan**

Hermione, Pandora and Odd take on The Daily Prophet. Another Lovegood. The Dark Lord's dirty laundry. Rita Skeeter's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week. Hermione's contingency plans.

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 **Part 4: Mundungus Fletcher vs The Goblet of Fire**

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 **22\. Chapter 20 – A Series of Unfortunate Events**

Some uses for anatomy. Meeting the dregs of Durmstrang. Dabbling with Dementors; or, Duelling with Dementors; or, Dancing with Dementors; or Destructing Dementors. Take your pick.

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 **23\. Chapter 21 – Quid Pro Quo**

Lily Luna does a kidnapping and Dumbledore does a deal. Pandora and Lily rock hard. Hermione fully embraces her bureaucratic nature. The first Triwizard Tournament in almost 200 years begins!

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 **24\. Chapter 22 – Gotta Catch 'Em All**

The consequences of the Triwizard championship lead to dramatic developments. A Dark Lord discovers the nature of _real_ magic. Flitwick the sadist sades his sadisticest. Snape learns the goals of the House of Black. Hermione flees into the night; followed immediately by, Hemione Strikes Back. The game of thrones.

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 **25\. Chapter 23 – Delenda Sint**

Magical high society and the Magical Ministry meet their friendly neighbourhood Hermione. Dumbledore awakens and shows Harry a new use for his sword. Harry makes a deal. Hermione goes shopping.

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 **26\. Chapter 24 – Nattering with Nazgûl**

Hermione's supplies. Lily blows her top (again). Scottish politeness. The right of parley, and the secret life of Dementors.

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 **27\. Interlude – Buy the Ticket, Take the Ride**

And they're off! Travel plans are always so exciting. What a Zabini wants, a Zabini gets. The Dementors of Britain take a holiday.

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 **Part 5:** **The Hogwarts Army vs Mahōnihon**

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 **28\. Chapter 25 –** **The Battle of Kyōto**

Meeting a new friend. The Asian division of the HA visits Mahōtokoro and learns some unnerving things about magical Japan. A bird in the hand's worth two brooms in the bush. A visit to Kyouto palace and another marriage offer. The invasion and siege of Kyōto Palace. The HA mobilises to defend the Japanese magical government. Tom Riddle demonstrates some neat tricks. Harry demonstrates some of his own.

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 **29\. Chapter 26 – Voyages with Vampires**

The conclusion of the Battle of Kyōto. But what to do with the captives? The cavalry arrives! Bellatrix experiences her new life.

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 **30\. Chapter 27 – The Ginevra Convention**

An unexpected arrival. Meeting new freinds. A redhead's magical mystery tour. Another Black enters the picture. Some frustrated Aurors.

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 **31\. Chapter 28 – Dirty Hermione Callahan**

Hermione flexes her muscles. Ron enjoys some nuts. Kikyō's story. Clobberin' Time! Deploying The Weapon. A mysterious disappearance explained. The ninja train. Unwelcome news in America.

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 **32\. Chapter 29 – Fortress Great and Mighty Lord Daimyō Mr Peter Pettigrew-Potter-Black-Malfoy-Sama Sir and His Wives and Concubines and Servants Too, and Also Dobby (FGAMLDMPPPBMSSSAHWACASTAAD)**

In this thrilling chapter:

\- - Ginny lies in a tent;

\- - Naho plays with her baby cousin;

\- - Apolline, Pandora and Naho wait in a room; and

\- - Lily and Ginny watch other people construct things.

Don't forget to tune in next time for the exciting continuation! Same magic-time, same magic-channel!

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 **Part 6: The Syndicate vs The Economy**

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 **33\. Chapter 30 – Dollar Dollar Bill, Y'All**

The French Connection. Muggle money management. The redheads bond over shopping. Pandora aims for the heavens!

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 **34\. Chapter 31 – Have Fangs, Will Travel**

The epic conclusion of a vampire civil war saga. James tests his skills and makes a bargain.

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 **35\. Chapter 32 – Rodents of Unusual Size**

Or, Living with Lovegoods; or, Freestyling with Fitzhallibut-Malfoys.

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 **36\. Chapter 33 – Wedding Crashers**

The little girl that could, and the wedding crashers that did. Animagus mishap! The return of Rita Skeeter.

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 **37\. Chapter 34 – The Kage Summit Showdown**

What's a little destruction between friends? Aggressive negotiations and a declaration of war. What do you do when faced with a gang of powerful, deadly, highly trained, and completely unhinged shinobi? Buy them off, of course! Pandora, Apolline and Naho get to bargaining.

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Further chapters TBA.

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	2. We Can't Stop Here, This is Rat Country

**Author's Note:**

This is both a HP reworking of "Back to the Future" themes, and a soft reboot/reworking of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" by Rorschach's Blot. Used with the permission of their original authors (except for "Back to the Future" of course). The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter or anything else. Full disclaimer in the Table of Contents.

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Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.

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Canon-compliant. HP&DH compliant (except the Epilogue). HP&CC compliant (except the conclusion). FB&WTFT compliant. Pottermore compliant (mostly). Some crossover with: Naruto, Ranma ½, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Twilight, Lord of the Rings and Avatar: The Last Airbender. Primarily Harry Potter though.

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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse.

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 **Part 1: Harry Potter vs Time**

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 **Prologue – We Can't Stop Here, This is Rat Country**

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We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold.

― _Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas_

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There are many things a wizard or witch shouldn't do while ridiculously drunk or high: flying, apparition, spellcrafting, Quidditch, Quodpot, microsurgery, wand repair, transfiguration and magical oaths, just to name a few. But as the Boy-Who-Lived learned, listening to one of your equally wasted friend's 'brilliant ideas' is another one of the things you just shouldn't do.

The evening began as part of Project GHTUFDOS (Getting-Harry-To-Unwind-From-Decades-Of-Stress). Ron figured that after being raised by scum like the Dursleys, the adventures in Hogwarts, having an immortal madman out for his blood (in both senses of the term), going on the lam to escape a corrupt government while searching the country for magical trinkets, the Battle of Hogwarts, and joining the Auror Academy immediately thereafter for two years of rigorous training (neither of them bothered with their seventh year or NEWTs), the least Harry was entitled to was a rager beyond all other ragers.

Ron's contacts had revealed an entire complex of wizarding and muggle bars tucked away in a corner of Barstow. Harry had never been to West Yorkshire before so readily agreed, and before you could say ' _desinit in piscem mulier formosa superne_ ', the two friends and their Auror cohort were out to celebrate Harry's 20th birthday, their completion of the junior level program, and getting their first pips. Hermione, being the poule mouillée that she was (whatever that meant; Fleur always refused to translate) had opted to stay at home and to work on a different project, one for her double Charms-Transfiguration Mastery. Ginny was at a training camp with the Hollyhead Harpies reserves, George and Lee were in the middle of a research kick and so fully in the 'wet blanket' zone, Neville and Luna were holidaying in Palmyra, and Susan and Hannah had vanished into the bowels of the Department of Mysteries, so who knew how long it would be before their Unspeakable mentors disgorged them. Consequently, no voice of reason was present to counter the twosome's natural recklessness. A recklessness only enhanced by the large amounts of alcohol they were consuming.

For example, the copious amounts of Firewhisky Harry and Ron had already downed made it seem an eminently reasonable and sane idea to experiment with the variety of magical substances their Auror friends, new barfly mates and hangers-on offered them over the course of the night to increase their cheer. They ended up taking a whole galaxy of multi-coloured Angel Tears, Demon Dust, Athelas, Lembas, Mertoran Leaf, Melancholia, and Morgana's Mushrooms. Even Faerie Bread and Pixie Sticks. They drew the line though at Deathsticks; the fact that they'd even been offered them in the first place forced Harry and Ron to re-evaluate their lives, and head home. After all, there is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a wizard in the depths of a Deathstick binge.

As they staggered away to find an apparition point (completely forgetting the Knight Bus was available), the chastened pair commiserated with each other drunkenly regarding the family and friends that Death had touched. Ron opined on the unfairness of it all, and waxed lyrical on the awesomeness of being able to reverse that unhappy state of affairs. Harry unwisely commented that he'd come across a ritual that purported to do such a thing in a dark book entitled 'Necronomicon' that was sequestered in the deepest, darkest, dankest corner of the hidden Library deep beneath Grimmauld Place. A library that only the Head of House Black and his personal elf could access. A quick summoning of Kreacher to fetch him the book, resulted in said book being firmly in the 'filthy halfblood master's tainted hand' by the time they had staggered out of town.

A side trip to the Forbidden Forest netted them the Resurrection Stone, which turned out to be surprisingly easy to retrieve. A simple _Accio Resurrection Stone!_ spell cast near the path Harry had walked to his 'death' brought it immediately to hand. Ron's Firewhisky and Faerie Bread-fuelled state did not prevent him from chiding Harry severely for being so careless about securing one of the Deathly Hallows, a priceless and irreplaceable and **_immensely dangerous_ ** magical artefact.

Still reeling from the ferocious bollicking, a suitably pwned Harry side-apparated them home, amazingly managing to avoid splinching anyone. A notable achievement indeed to the man known in the Academy as Sir Splinchalot. At present, the Golden Trio were living in one of the many cottages owned by the Potter family that dotted the countryside. The one they'd selected was the most well-warded and remote they could find. Ron and Harry and a contingent of Gringotts warders had busily shored up its magical defences while Hermione had brought the interior up to liveable standards. It was perhaps not a surprise then that the finished product featured a soft pastel colour palette and wall-to-wall bookcases in every room but the kitchen and basement. Ron grumbled that she had finally achieved her lifelong dream to live in a library.

With the great confidence that only mind-altering substances can provide, the two thought it a fine idea to replicate the mysterious rite from the Necronomicon by themselves right then and there. They busily set to work, stopping only to periodically charge their glasses from the bottle of butterbeer Ron had filched from the final bar, and toast the objects mounted over the fireplace: enlarged and framed pictures of Harry's parents, Remus and Nymphadora Lupin, Dobby, Fred and Gideon and Fabian Prewett; the remains of Harry's Firebolt and Ron's first wand, which had been painstakingly pieced back together again; Harry's holly and phoenix feather wand, that he had put aside at the end of the war and swore never to use again except in direst emergency; the warped and twisted slag of gold that was once Slytherin's Locket; Wormtail's silver hand, a victory trophy; and a jar of faerie wings that Hermione had left on top of the fireplace for some reason. The jar of faerie wings was the recipient of a particularly high and enthusiastic number of toasts.

It mattered not to them that the pages of the Necronomicon were extremely weathered and hard to read even under the best of circumstances, nor that the description of the ritual was missing a number of key steps (they made those up as they went). Harry would likely have worried more about this lacuna had not Ron procured a small vial of glowing golden potion, with a flourish and unsteady smile.

"Whazz dat, mate?" Harry slurred.

"Felis fallacious-fellatio-whatchamacallit," his friend drooled proudly.

"Where'd ya geddit?"

"Hermione's secret cupboard she thinks we don know bout," he giggled. "Oops."

"No woz," Harry declared, mopping up the spilled Felix Felicis with his Invisibility Cloak and squeezing it out into the cauldron. The concoction turned purple and began to bubble ominously.

"Finished," Ron commented in satisfaction. "Wiz all zat luck, we're on our way! Lettuz begin the Rite of Ash Kent, whoever he is. Heigh ho, Slipper!" With that, the two began channelling their magic through the series of wobbly-looking runes scratched out on the floor in an uneven circle. The room began to glow with an eldritch light. The cauldron bubbled over, and pink and silver steam filled the room.

"Yeah! We did it," cheered Harry, "in your face, Abd'ul al-Hazred!" right before the Resurrection Stone exploded. The resulting magical backlash flattened the house, and the explosion could be seen and felt from Hogsmeade. The muggle news quickly informed the public that the strange lights and tremors were caused by the planned demolition of a natural gas pipe. Since it occurred far from any habitation, the occurrence was quickly put aside in favour of more pressing matters.

When the debris had settled, all the inhabitants were gone.

Little did they know that one _specific_ part of their drunken, idiotic plan would work out far better than they had ever imagined.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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Harry James Potter woke up and immediately wished that he hadn't. His brain felt like it was desperately trying to escape from his skull and make for happier climes.

He was tangled in a heap in what looked like a tiny bathroom stall. "Ugh," Harry groaned, "never again!" Dragging himself up off the floor, he dropped onto the toilet seat and tried to get his bearings. "That's the last time I drink, eat or smoke anything those jerks suggest." He looked around. "Just what did Ron and I get up to last night?" he wondered to himself.

Eventually he was able to suppress the nausea enough to sit up straight. Soon after, he had summoned sufficient strength to grab the sink and pull himself upright to wash his face. Drying his eyes, he looked up into the mirror. His reflection looked back at him. Watery blue eyes. Chubby round face. Small twitchy nose. Thin mousy hair. The hated face of someone long dead, the face of an enemy Harry would never forget as long as he lived.

Harry stared into the rat-like teenaged face of Peter Pettigrew.

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	3. 1 The Loveliness of Lists

**Author's Note:**

This is both a HP reworking of "Back to the Future" themes, and a soft reboot/reworking of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" by Rorschach's Blot. Used with the permission of their original authors (except for "Back to the Future" of course). The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter or anything else. Full disclaimer in the Table of Contents.

.

Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.

.

Canon-compliant. HP&DH compliant (except the Epilogue). HP&CC compliant (except the conclusion). FB&WTFT compliant. Pottermore compliant (mostly). Some crossover with: Naruto, Ranma ½, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Twilight, Lord of the Rings and Avatar: The Last Airbender. Primarily Harry Potter though.

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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "Reunion" by Rorschach's Blot.

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 **Chapter 1 – The Loveliness of Lists**

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And if you go chasing rabbits and you know you're going to fall

Tell 'em a hookah-smoking caterpillar has given you the call.

– _White Rabbit_

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Harry hoped he'd wake from this dream soon.

Though it had now been a good hour or more since he'd regained consciousness and been dragged bodily from the toilet and dumped here, and reality had yet to reassert itself. After three more hours, he was forced to conclude that maybe this wasn't the product of an alcohol and Pixie Sticks-fuelled delirium after all.

After another two hours, Harry had regained sufficient composure that he no longer felt like screaming his head off, fainting, laughing hysterically or fleeing into the night every time he turned around and saw his parents, Sirius and Remus alive and in the (teenage) flesh.

He'd sat in the car with the other Marauders and pretended to read his Care of Magical Creatures (COMC) textbook " _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ " by Newt Salamander or something, while having his prolonged silent freakout. His ears caught snatches of the surrounding conversation, only barely paying attention.

"How are you enjoying living with the Potters, Padfoot?"

"Superlative! Better all round for my parents and me to be out of each others' hair for good. Luckily, Uncle Alphard left me a bequest in his will, otherwise I'd be completely destitute. Will's being held up in probate though, likely to be a year or more before I see a knut…"

"Can't believe none of us became prefects a second year in a row, we need to celebrate our good fortune …"

"How the heck did Lily manage to become Head Girl in sixth year? That's unprecedented!"  
"Actually, it's happened five times before, according to _Hogwarts: A History_. If she does well, she may even get Head Girl next year too."

"Two years in a row? McGonagall will be so smug …"

"Minister Bagnold's back in for another term. Dad says that people don't like changing horses mid race, so all the morons running the place will likely stick around as long as the war lasts …"

"She's still the best option we've got … look at the rest of the duffers angling to take her throne …"

"Did you hear about Stebbins? Crouch's merry men dragged off his pa yesterday and he hasn't been heard from since …"

"DMLE's getting worse … how much longer before you can't tell the difference between them and the Death Eater scum they're chasing?"

Harry closed his eyes and reviewed his situation. According to Remus' copy of _The Daily Prophet_ , the date was currently 1 September 1976. Perhaps things would make more sense when put into their larger perspective:

\- - Graduated from basic level Auror Academy, check.

\- - Got wasted with Ron, check.

\- - Ate and smoked loads of substances I've never heard of, check.

\- - Did untested and incomplete magic ritual in order to something something, check.

\- - Fell into toilet, check.

\- - Ended up in Pettigrew's body in 1976, check.

\- - For some reason, still Head of Potters and Blacks, check.

\- - Met parents and their friends somehow still alive, check and check.

Nope, still didn't make a lick of sense.

Since his mind was still a jumble of thoughts, images, memories, he decided to start rebuilding his mindscape. Occlumency was still just as slow, painful and difficult for him as it had been in the first few years of learning it. Of the many skills of Harry Potter/Peter Pettigrew, mind magic was not one of them. Knowing little else could be achieved until he had his head on straight again, Harry persevered and slowly, gradually, his addled mind began to take on some kind of order again.

The first step was to reorganise his scrambled memories and knowledge into groups or categories and assign a Watcher, a mental construct to manage the information. Then he could deal with each lot at one at a time. All his magical knowledge and experiences of the magical world from his Hogwarts letter to the Battle of Hogwarts was stored in a vast library, tended to by a librarian which looked a lot like an Otter with prominent beaver-like teeth and a big bushy mane. She gave him a cheery wave as she set to work categorising her books. His childhood at the Dursleys was packed away into a cupboard under the stairs with a White Owl watching over it.

Everything he'd gleaned about his family, his Potter and Black heritage, and information from the Black libraries, he stored in Grimmauld Place, protected by a giant black Grim. The shaggy beast grinned his biggest doggy smile at him and rolled onto his back for a belly scratch. Everything he'd gained from Voldemort's horcrux and Dumbledore's memories was buried under gravestones in the Little Hangleton cemetery. A baleful, red-eyed Nagini patrolled. Harry could still remember the feeling of the influx of experiences, memories, knowledge and skills that absorbed into him. The feeling of he and Dumbledore watching the evil child in his mind dissolve away and be assimilated, at the mystical Kings Cross Station.

Whatever random scraps of Pettigrew's skills and memories he could find floating around (and there were depressingly few), he hid under a dinner table and covered it with a bright, checked tablecloth. A Dormouse sat in a teapot on the table as a guard, the lid perched jauntily on its tiny head like a sailor's cap. All his Auror training and post-Hogwarts life was merged into a throne of swords, upon which sat a Lynx with a deep, measured voice and calm eyes. It would probably take months to really integrate his new self with the self he'd somehow jumped into, but this was plenty good to start with.

 _Alright friends, he said to his Watchers, now we've got all that sorted, what in the name of Merlin's merkins are we going to do now?_

 _Compile a list of our assets and liabilities, and then put together a list of tasks that need to be done, in order of priority, stated the Otter in a bossy tone. The Lynx and Owl nodded in agreement, the Grim and Dormouse were indifferent, and Nagini just glared at him balefully._

 _You and your lists, Harry sighed. Still, it's a good start. Anyone else have any suggestions?_

 _You need better clothesssss, and a better haircut. Your appearance issss a disssgrace, sniffed Nagini. You may as well jussst kill yoursssself now and make the world a much more tasssteful place._

 _Duly noted, he replied dryly._

Opening his eyes, he stood and made his way to the door. Noticing the questioning eyes, he said lamely, "I, uh, have to go to the bathroom."

"Try not to fall down the toilet this time," snickered Sirius.

"Duly noted," he replied dryly.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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In a different bathroom stall, Harry pulled out the unfamiliar wand and tried it out. He quickly discovered that Peter was a leftie. This was going to take some getting used to. Eventually he felt comfortable enough with the wand to try some magic. He conjured a floor length mirror along one side of the stall. Then, stripping down to his underwear, he took a critical look at the body he now inhabited. "A little lump of a boy, indeed, Professor," he murmured to himself.

He observed 'himself' carefully. Very short, the shortest of the Marauders by a head at least. Thin mousy hair. Small, watery eyes, and a pointy nose. Prominent overbite. High, squeaky voice. Just like a rat. "More like a no-style gimbo with front teeth the Druids could use as a place of worship," Harry muttered. He glanced down at his right hand. "At least you're all still with me," wiggling his fingers. With a flash, two of the surprises appeared on his fingers and gleamed back at him. The Potter and Black Head of House rings. Both rings were simple, but elegant affairs, a style that many of Britain's older and more prominent families of the time favoured. The Potter ring had a band made from the metal known to be the most magically conductive, mithril. The Black family ring was of a similar design, a halo carved from a garnet, said to have been found in the stomach of the dragon slain by the first Black to enter the lands now known as Britain over a millennia ago. Both lacked the gaudy, oftentimes overly large stones that were so commonly found on the rings of Britain's "younger" noble houses. Atop their surfaces, carved into metal and gem alike, were the identifying crests of each house upon their respective rings. Harry hadn't the faintest idea why, if he'd somehow ended up occupying the rat traitor's carcass, his Lordships would come for the ride. As far as he knew, Pettigrew wasn't related to any of the major pureblood houses; or to anyone else even the slightest bit prominent in the wizarding world.

Emptying Peter's pockets and pouch, he discovered some change, a few letters from his family (who lived in America for some reason), a few packs of exploding snap cards, a couple of chocolate frogs, and a dozen powder-blue items that caused him to raise his eyes in curiosity. _Well well, Peter. What possible reason could you want these for?_

 _._

 **Liabilities:**

\- - A body that is short, pudgy, weak, unfit, unattractive, and worst of all, cowardly. Very unlikely to survive firefights with Death Eaters, let alone the Dark Tosser himself.

\- - Poor magical ability. Professor McGonagall said Pettigrew was mediocre, not much power, intelligence or academic ability.

\- - No political power, influence, social standing of any kind. Can't rely on the Order of the Phoenix or the Ministry to back up a total nobody.

\- - Caught in the middle of a civil war between Dumbledore and Voldemort. Voldemort at the height of his power: physical, magical, political and financial.

\- - No Prophecy or horcrux in my head, so one Killing Curse and I'm done for.

\- - No Ron or Hermione by my side. This one really hurt. His stomach clenched tightly as he thought about what may have happened to his two best friends. The magical reaction was so powerful it must've levelled the cottage and the landscape for a mile in each direction… no, he was not going to finish that thought.

Mentally reviewing the list, Harry was seized by a desire to laugh hysterically once more. No status, no political power, no famous name, no Boy-Who-Lived fame, just a complete nobody. He had finally attained his lifelong dream of being completely normal, one of the ordinary everyday drones, able to disappear into a crowd. Right when such qualities were most likely to get him killed. If nobody would listen to him, how in the nine levels of wizarding hell could he prevent the deaths of his family and others? Fate certainly had an ironic sense of humour. Moving on.

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 **Assets:**

\- - Pettigrew will never join Voldie or betray the Potters now, that's for damn sure!

\- - Extremely useful animagus form. Only three people know about it. Ideal for scouting, surveillance, espionage, escape artistry. Can talk to rats and mice, who can get anywhere.

\- - Expertise in potions. Peter was the Marauder's go-to brewer. Good enough to brew Polyjuice for the fake Moody. Good enough for the Dark Tosser to force him to be Snape's potions assistant. Good enough to brew the potion that brought said Dark Tosser to life.

\- - At least somewhat adept in combat, since he came out the winner in every fight he ever had with Sirius. Powerful enough to cast the Killing Curse, and to blow up an entire muggle street with the Blasting Curse. And conjurations, can't forget about those; they were bloody hard to do.

\- - Some skill in Charms, as evidenced by his hand in creating the Marauders Map.

\- - Rat cunning.

…

That was all he could think of. Moving on.

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 **Task List:**

Item 1. Get Untraceable Wand and Find Knowledge of Wandlore.

A new set of wands, wand holders, and books on wandlore. He remembered how much trouble the Ministry had given him over the underage magic restrictions. And Riddle's lack of knowledge of wandlore was what ultimately led to his demise; it certainly wasn't Love that did it, he snorted to himself. Add one more checkmark in the 'Things Dumbledore was wrong about' column. Merlin, it's starting to get long…

Item 2. Find Out How Many Horcruxes Riddle Has Made and Get Rid of Them Without Him Knowing

How many of his trinkets has he made in 1976? How can I stop him making more? Diadem is at Hogwarts already so it's the easiest to reach. Bellatrix, Regulus and Lucius are still students and haven't joined the Inner Circle, so I doubt the Cup, Locket and Diary are in their possession. But the real question is, has he made them yet?

Item 3. Find Out If There's a Way to End Voldie Without Having to Destroy Horcruxes.

Sounds counterintuitive, since the whole point of horcruxes is to prevent anyone from being able to kill you. Dumbledore said no, but the old man was obsessed with his own Prophecy-based scenario, and I never looked into alternatives. Can we freeze Tommy-boy into a block of stone and store him in the deepest vault at Gringotts for all eternity? Or drop him into the Marinas Trench? Can we chop off all his limbs and leave him helpless? Or take away his magic somehow, turn him into a squib? Can we just throw him through the Veil of Death? Will require much research.

Item 4. Keep Parents and Marauders Alive at All Costs!

Self-explanatory. Bonus points for keeping their family and friends alive too. Was it even possible to change the past? Hermione once implied that it was. What was it she said? Something about how there were stories of witches and wizards going back in time and accidently killing their past selves. If that was possible, then surely it was possible to _stop_ people from dying.

Harry considered the problem for a bit before he concluded: either (a) it's impossible to change the timeline in any way, or (b) it _is_ possible. If (a) is true, then whatever I do won't make the slightest shred of difference either way, so I may as well behave as if (b) is true. Better to try and have no impact, than not to try and realise later I could've improved things. So full steam ahead!

A chilling thought arose. What if (b) was correct and his interference ended up preventing his own birth? Would he cease to exist? A close examination of himself revealed the sober truth: if him ceasing to exist was what it took to prevent thousands of deaths and colossal national suffering, then it was worth it. He'd take his lumps and move on to The Next Great Adventure. Maybe he'd be reincarnated as a fluffy cloud and float around all day. Rest up. Take it real mellow, and so forth. Moving on.

Those were all the items he could think of right now.

 _Don't worry, I'm sure more will come to you in time, the Otter reassured him._

With that ominous 'reassurance' ringing in his ears, Harry returned to his friends.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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Seated at the Gryffindor table with his fellow Marauders, Harry – _no, got to think of myself as Peter now, otherwise I'll slip up all over the place_ – savoured the delicious meal of roast pork and vegetables. He sighed in happiness. In spite of the many times he'd almost died at Hogwarts, it still felt like Home. Headmaster Albus Dumbledore was sitting at the teacher's table atop his golden throne, as if Harry had never watched him die. The 'Boy-Who-Lived' felt a lump rising in his throat and tears bead in the corner of his eyes, at seeing his beloved mentor alive once more.

To his left sat a tall, slender boy who, with a bit of a shock, Harry recognised as Neville's father-to-be, Frank Longbottom. A much younger Frank Longbottom who still had all his faculties intact. A shock of curly black hair, round head tapering off into a sharp chin. The gold Head Boy badge glistening on his robes. Harry found himself mesmerised by Frank's giant shining forehead.

"So, you and Lily, huh? Two Head students from Gryffindor this year," James commented, "McG must be ecstatic. Like the cat that got the cream."

"She _is_ in an abnormally good mood," Frank agreed. They looked over to their Head of House seated at the teachers' table. Professor McGonagall appeared as grim and stern-faced as ever.

"How can you tell?" inquired Remus.

But Frank's answer would never be known, for at that moment the Headmaster rose and began his long and rambling opening speech. Only two items stood out as being of note. The first was the introduction of the new Defence Against the Dark Arts (DADA) instructor, a former American Auror who apparently was married to their Care of Magical Creatures (COMC) teacher, Professor Newt Scamander. A redoubtable stony-faced Iron Lady in her mid-70s, her fierce eyes scanned the Hall intently.

"You're kidding, right?" Sirius exclaimed incredulously. "Porpentina Elizabeta Scamander-Goldstein – who on earth needs 14 syllables in their name? Even He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named only has six!"

"Sounds like someone's jealous, Mr Four Syllables," snarked Remus.

"Why don't you just call her PESG for short?" James added.

The second item was a true surprise: the introduction of visiting students from Beauxbatons (France), Durmstrang (Scandinavia), Ilvermorny (United States), Koldovstoretz (Russia), Uagadou (Africa) and Mahōtokoro (Japan) who would be residing in Hogwarts for the year, as part of an inter-school exchange program. This announcement occasioned a large rumble of whispers and pointing amongst the Hogwarts students. Each foreign school had sent 10 students apiece: one male and one female from third to seventh year. Hogwarts in turn had sent 60 Hufflepuffs to the six other schools, leaving the House of the Badgers considerably less populated than usual.

"What's going on? Oh no, don't tell me it's the Triwizard Tournament again!" Harry exclaimed in dismay.

James turned to him, a look of consternation bespangling his brow. "What are you blathering about, Wormy? The Triwizard? Weren't they those crazy championships held in the old days, where tons of competitors and audience members kept dying? Why on earth would you think they'd resurrect that hoary old thing? In the middle of a war, no less! And what do you mean by, 'again'? The last one was like, 300 years ago or something, wasn't it?"

 _Try to keep your thoughtsssss to yoursssself, sssimpleton! hissed Nagini._

"Oh, nothing. Just remembered something about it in _Hogwarts: A History_ ," Harry replied. He laughed nervously. James scrutinised him with suspicion, but fortunately became distracted by the delegations of foreign students that were beginning to arrive in the Great Hall. Prongs and Padfoot slowly began to smile with unholy glee at the thought of all the fresh, virginal students that were theirs to introduce to the wonderful world of pranks, wheezes and boyish hijinks. Pranked for the very first time.

"I would recommend you avoid that," Frank interjected sharply, seeming to read their thoughts. "All the visiting students are children of diplomats, aristocrats, Aurors, ministry officials, business leaders, sports stars and the like. Their parents and patrons would be unlikely to take it in good spirit."

 _Hossstagessss, hissed Nagini._

"In other words, they're hostages," Harry said.

Frank grimaced. "Between you me and Peeves, that's not far off. But best not to say it in polite company."

"Eh, what's this?" demanded Sirius.

Harry explained. "By having all these children of the elite stay for the year, the Headmaster gains an extra layer of protection from the Dark Tosser. There's already a bunch of little Death Nibbler spawn here," he jerked his head in the direction of the Slytherin table, "reducing the likelihood of attack. With all these foreigners present, Voldie risks starting a war with magical France, Eastern Europe, America, Africa, Russia and/or Japan if any of them get hurt. Which makes Hogwarts, theoretically, off-limits."

"And it gets a good chunk of the 'Puffs out of the line of fire," Frank added.

"Not willing to send anyone important eh?" Sirius drawled.

"Hey, that's rude!"

"Not necessarily wrong though," James pointed out. "We get the next generation of their best and brightest, and what do they get in exchange? A bunch of mediocre nobodies."

"Well in that case, you'll be pleased to know that instead of those 'mediocre nobodies', all classes with the Hufflepuffs will now include all 12 foreign students in that age cohort. And every Durmstrang and Koldovstoretz student will be rooming with us in Gryffindor Tower," retorted Frank with an evil grin. A grin that grew even wider at the Marauders' outraged protests. "If you don't like it, tough. The Frogs and Japs are staying in Ravenclaw Tower and the Yanks and Africans are with the 'Puffs."

"This is so unfair," groused Sirius. "We have to put up with a bunch of bloody dark wizards-in-training every day, while the Ilvermorny and Uagadou students get the 'Puff dorms almost entirely to themselves; probably enough space that each one gets their own room!" He sighed in longing.

"Had enough of us already?" Remus needled.

"What I don't understand is why they aren't staying in the dungeons with the snakes. They'd probably get along just fine with each other," James mused.

 _Why would you be stupid enough to multiply your enemies? queried the Lynx dismissively._

 _Prek! the Owl barked in agreement._

"That's probably exactly why Professor Dumbledore _hasn't_ put them there. I'll bet he has no desire to foster dark wizard networking opportunities," said Harry.

"That still doesn't explain why _we_ have to endure 'em!" said Sirius stubbornly.

Frank smirked. "Maybe he feels that Gryffindors alone have the moral fortitude to withstand their eeeevil dark magic vibes, and even Lead Them To The Light!"

Harry was about offer his two knuts, when he was hit on the back of the head. Reaching around, he grabbed the paper aeroplane which was even now transfiguring itself into a note. Scrawled on the parchment in near-indecipherable script, was the simple, mind-bending message:

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 _"_ _Welcome to Hogwarts, Harry Potter."_

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He fell off his chair.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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Walking back to the Gryffindor dorms with the other Marauders, the mysterious note clenched tightly in his fist, Harry found himself deep in the depths of the uncanny valley once more. Around him were all sorts of people he recognised from paintings, photos, illustrations in books, or those whose identities he was able to deduce based on the descriptions and tales he'd collected over the years about his parents and their times. He also recognised younger versions of his teachers, friends and colleagues.

Amelia Bones, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Gilderoy Lockhart, Frank Longbottom, Xenophilius Lovegood. Dawlish. Diggory. Diggle. Jones. Jorkins. People made way as Lily Evans strode by with her ladies-in-waiting in tow: Mary MacDonald, Alice Longbottom ( _McKinnon at the moment_ , he corrected himself) and her twin sister Marlene, and trotting along behind the coterie, a much younger, shorter, but still just as sallow and sour, Severus Snape, in his second-hand shabby robes and Sunday-best sneer. A passing redheaded seventh-year gave Harry a sultry wink as she scampered by, who the deuce was that? Did Pettigrew have a fling with an older girl in school? A girl who looked strikingly similar to Lily Evans? He shuddered, really _really_ not wanting to follow that disturbing train of thought. And of course, the Blacks. Bellatrix, Narcissa and Regulus, on their way to the Slytherin dorms.

He wondered where Andromeda was. Bellatrix was the eldest, so shouldn't the middle sister still be at Hogwarts too? Maybe she'd already been expelled from the Black family. Thinking about the Blacks stirred up some nagging worries in the back of his mind.

 _They're your problem now, all of them, the Grim rasped. You're their Lord and you're responsible for protecting them and keeping them on the straight and narrow._

And how was he supposed to deal with a bunch of the darkest of dark wizards? A family that had spent generation after generation despising the weak and delving into the blackest, most evil magic in existence? They were hardly likely to listen to a duffer like Pettigrew. A sudden, sharp thought brought him up short: the Black and Potter family tapestries, like all family tapestries owned by the ancient Houses, were magically self-updating. The next time one of the Potters or Blacks happened to glance at theirs, they would no doubt be surprised to discover that the Lord of the House was now a completely unrelated nobody. How would they react?

 _You know_ exactly _how the Blacks will react, chuckled the Grim in his gruff, doglike manner. And you know what you have to do about it!_

There wasn't much he could do – wanted to do – about the Potters, but by Salazar's sweaty snake-infested stockings, there _had_ to be a way to neutralise the Blacks before they tracked him down to give him a fiendfyre enema. Time was of the essence, he couldn't afford to let them take the initiative! Looks like he had a new item that went straight to number one on his Task List.

"Suffer or strike!" he muttered to himself. "In order not to be struck, strike!"

.


	4. 2 The Obligatory Visit to Gringotts

**Author's Note:**

This is both a HP reworking of "Back to the Future" themes, and a soft reboot/reworking of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" by Rorschach's Blot. Used with the permission of their original authors (except for "Back to the Future" of course). The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter or anything else. Full disclaimer in the Table of Contents.

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Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.

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Canon-compliant. HP&DH compliant (except the Epilogue). HP&CC compliant (except the conclusion). FB&WTFT compliant. Pottermore compliant (mostly). Some crossover with: Naruto, Ranma ½, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Twilight, Lord of the Rings and Avatar: The Last Airbender. Primarily Harry Potter though.

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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "Lord of Caer Azkaban" by Rorschach's Blot.

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* * *

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 **Chapter 2 – The Obligatory Visit to Gringotts and Obtaining a New Wand Chapter with Meta Title**

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All genres are good. Except the boring ones."

– _The Barber of Seville_

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"I'm off for a while." Harry had thrown on a nondescript black cloak over his school uniform, and checked and double-checked that he had his wand and money pouch. He'd spent the previous three hours since dinner practising changing back and forth between his human and rat forms to get the hang of it. Fortunately, a good chunk of animagus magic depends on muscle memory and magical memory, which Peter's/his body had retained – _thank Merlin –_ so it wasn't too jarring. The Marauders gave him odd looks for his behaviour, but were too absorbed with unpacking to pay it much mind.

"Where are going, Wormtail?" asked James, casually lounging on his bed as his wand danced. Puddlemere United posters and banners floated sedately to the ceiling and walls and attached themselves securely.

"To explore. See what's what," he feigned nonchalance.

"Have fun. Don't forget to tell us if you find anything interesting."

Sirius grinned, "Especially if that interesting thing happens to be the passwords for the other Houses, and ways of bypassing the wards on the girls' dorms."

Harry rolled his eyes and transformed into his rat body. He scurried out of the room and into the nearest crack in the wall. It shocked him just how small a space he could squeeze his body through. It was starting to become easier to access whatever bits of Peter's memories remained in his head. And while in rat form, the knowledge of the layout of the castle and the various shortcuts that a tiny mammal can use to get places was mostly instinctual. So, without much difficulty, Harry was able to navigate his way down to the tunnel to the Shrieking Shack, and then out into Hogsmeade. Slipping back into human form, he pulled his hood up and apparated to Diagon Alley.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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The first of his errands was the most important. Scampering up to the giant white marble façade opposite the Diagon apparition point, he raised his fist and pounded on the sealed iron gates. He heard a latch click, then a viewing porthole swung open to reveal the hideous visage of a gnarled and scarred guardsgoblin.

"Begone hue-mon!" it rasped. "Can't you see that Gringotts is closed, you empty-headed trough-wiper! Now flee or I shall taunt you a second time!"

"Gringotts is always open, you son-of-a-troll," he snapped back at the cantankerous guard. With a bit of effort, the Black ring materialised on his finger. Waving it in the goblin's face he sneered, "Now go and fetch my Account Manager and tell him that Lord Black is here to see him, and that if he wishes to keep his intestines from lining my trunk, he'll be here five minutes ago!"

The metal cover slammed shut. _Merlin, it's tiring dealing with goblins_ , he sighed to himself, trying to wish away his pounding headache. He hoped he could get to sleep soon. _A little bit of the past goes a very long way. After eight hours in this place I feel like I've been here for eight years._ After a wait of some minutes, a side door creaked open and the guard led Harry down a flight of stairs and through a dizzying labyrinth of corridors and office cubicles. Finally they reached an large, ornate door covered in Gobbledygook inscriptions. At the centre, in golden lettering, was the word 'Nilbog'. And underneath, 'Abandon All Hope, Thieves Who Enter Here'.

Without ceremony, the guard pushed the heavy door open and ushered Harry to a conference room and a very grouchy and frazzled goblin. Harry had clearly interrupted the creature's evening ritual, as it was bedecked in white pyjamas with the galleon-symbol embroidered all over them. A thick silk dressing-gown had been thrown over them, and a white nightcap complete with pom-pom adorned its head. Clutched in one had was stack of files and in the other was a dark green and beige mass, which the goblin hastily shoved into its mouth and swallowed.

 _Half man, half plant; a goblin's favourite food, the Lynx noted._

"Who dares enter the Kingdom of Nilbog and disturb me at this ungodly hour?" the creature snarled, dumping its papers onto the desk.

"I am the new Lord Black and Lord Potter," Harry said pompously, throwing back his hood grandly and brandishing his House Rings. Hoping his best impression of Draco Malfoy was convincing. "And I've come to review my Houses' holdings."

"That remains to be seen," sneered the goblin curtly. "Blood." It rudely thrust a rune-covered silver bowl at him. Wordlessly, Harry picked up the ritual knife and pricked a pinky, letting several drops of blood drip into the bowl. Snatching the bowl back, the goblin waved his hand over it and chanted softly for a while. Eventually the bowl began to glow, and a blank sheet of parchment on the table began to fill with indecipherable script. The goblin reviewed the contents while Harry made himself comfortable as he could on one of the unpolished granite chairs.

"So, Mr Peter Persimmony Pettigrew," the goblin drawled, putting down the paper and steepling its claws, "you have somehow attained to the Lordship of two Ancient and Noble Houses not ten hours ago. Most surprising, considering you're not related to either of them as far as we can tell. Even more surprising that the former Lords are still alive, and I'd venture to guess, unaware of this event."

"Most likely," Harry nodded. "Freak magical occurrence." That was his story and he was sticking to it.

"It must have been extremely freaky," the goblin agreed, "since there is no precedent whatsoever on record."

Harry shrugged. "Not my problem. Are there any issues with my access to the family vaults?" The goblin shook its head in the negative. "Then congratulations, you are now my Account Manager for both the Black and Potter fortunes, Mr …"

"You may call me Account Manager Goldenrod."

"Seriously?"

"Yes." Goldenrod eyed him suspiciously. "Why?"

"No reason," Harry replied hastily. "Leave the Potter vaults as is." He didn't want to interfere with his family's money. But the Black clan, he wouldn't feel the slightest bit of guilt running them into bankruptcy. "My business tonight relates to the Black family holdings only. I want all Black vaults sealed, keys recalled and access removed, except for myself alone. Are there any ongoing automatic payments?"

"Six withdrawal schedules have been authorised. Monthly basis."

"Cancel them."

"Will you be wishing to provide an income for your family members?" the goblin asked delicately (for a goblin). "Or would you rather they starve on the streets?"

 _Desperate people do stupid things, warned the Lynx._

"I suppose I have to leave them _something_ ," Harry conceded reluctantly. "How much is a sufficient amount?"

Goldenrod shrugged. "I've heard a family of hue-mons can survive on a galleon a week if properly motivated."

Harry did some quick calculations in his head. "Okay, each family member is authorised to draw … 200 galleons per month. That should be enough to live on and yet keep them out of (most) trouble."

"As you say," the goblin agreed neutrally. A white crystal on his desk suddenly pinged. "Your new master key. All others have been deactivated." He reached into his desk drawer and handed Harry his golden key. It was attached to a long, ornate chain that Harry threw around his neck, tucking the key out of sight.

"I'll also need one of your fancy automatically-filling money bags, since I won't have time to come back here constantly."

"The fee is five galleons a month. What daily drawing limit do you want?"

"500 galleons should be sufficient. Also, are there any mokeskin pouches in any of the vaults?" He thought he remembered that the one Hagrid gave him for his 17th birthday originally was a gift from James Potter.

"I wouldn't know."

"Well, why don't you find out?" Harry asked waspishly. This was taking too long, and he had places to do and people to be. "I also want you to organise having some people who've been expelled from the family reinstated as full members in good standing: Sirius Black, Andromeda Tonks and Nymphadora Tonks. Sirius Black is to be made the Black Heir again."

"You'll have to go to the Ministry for that," sneered Goldenrod.

"I'm sure that Gringotts can act as my agent with the bureaucracy for the right price."

Grumbling, the goblin reached into his drawer again and all but hurled the papers at him. "Sign here! And seal it with the House Ring there! The fee is 500 galleons."

"Highway robbery!" Harry objected, taking the appropriate actions. "But get it official within a week and you have a deal."

"I'm sure we can manage that," the goblin sniffed primly.

The door opened and another goblin entered, holding two items. "Your money pouch. A drop of blood on the lock is required to activate it," the grunt grunted. "Your artefact." Harry nodded in thanks and stowed the money pouch and the mokeskin pouch away.

"Your fees and charges have been deducted from the primary Black family vault," announced Goldenrod. "We will contact you regarding the disposition of your family members. If that is all, get out!"

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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Leaving the bank, Harry made his way into Knockturn Alley, hurriedly scanning the signs adorning the storefronts. Finally he found what he was looking for. Stepping inside the store (which appeared to be lit by a giant glass jar of faeries sitting on the counter), he approached the wizened old proprietor who was scrutinising him with a single, gimlet eye. He was a short, rather stout man wearing the traditional tattered blacks and greys that the citizenry of Knockturn seemed to prefer.

"Excuse me," Harry said with a smile designed to put the man at ease, "I am in need of another wand and I'm told that your efforts are … acceptable."

Straightening his shoulders at the comment, "I do me best to live up to me Lordships' expectations," the man said sarcastically.

"I require a wand. One without the Ministry's Trace for underage magic, of course." There was no sense beating around the bush at this time of night.

"I don't sell to minors," the man replied sharply. "'Specially ones wantin' illegal products."

"I'm not a minor," Harry scowled. "I was brewing up a potion and I must have done something wrong because now I look like this and I can't find my wand."

"Oh," the man's condescending smirk turned into a look of sympathy. "What did they say at St Mungos?"

"That I'll start looking like myself again if I give it enough time," Harry smiled. "But until that happens, I need a new wand."

"Oh is that all? And one without a Trace no less?" smiled the man. "Nice try, lad, now why don't ye run along back to Hogwarts and snuggle up with yer teddy bears. The Alley be a dangerous place for younglings after dark. 'Specially one with such fat cheeks. I bet there be many a hag that would like to eat 'em!" The old crone cackled.

"What makes you think I'm a Hogwarts student?" Harry demanded.

"Ye mean aside from the Hogwarts uniform ye're wearing under that knut-store robe?"

Harry cursed himself silently.

 _That's what you get for thinking that a generic robe over a school uniform was in any way an effective disguise, sneered Nagini._

"Ahem, be that as it may, I still require a Trace-less wand."

"I told ye lad, I don't sell to minors!"

"My purse begs to differ," Harry retorted, giving his money pouch a shake. The man tried to resist the sound of gold jingling, but in the end the temptation proved too great.

"Well, why didn't ye say so?" he said in good cheer, grinning sinisterly. "Welcome to Snidely Whizzpopper's wand emporium. Only be the finest in bespoke wands for the truly discerning customer. None of that mass-produced garbage that Ollivander shills," the man scoffed, "chock full of power limiters and tracked with the Trace, so the Ministry can keep the little kiddies on a nice tight leash!" Harry wondered if this were true, or merely a marketing spiel to drum up business that the man said to everyone who came by. "Now, let's see what sort of shoddy twig Garrick's got ye flappin' around, Mr …?"

"Black."

Harry proffered his wand. Whizzpopper squinted at it critically. "Chestnut, 9¼ inches, dragon heartstring core. Too brittle. At least it's one of his not completely worthless creations." The man called Snidely pulled out a thick book and opened it to reveal page upon page of wood samples. "Touch each one, Mr Black, let yer magic flow through it and tell me what 'feels right'. After that, we'll know which wood to construct yer wand of."

At a small sliver of brown wood, the Gryffindor stopped. "This one."

"Yep, chestnut be the best match for you, who'da thought? Well, even a sundial be right twice a day," he muttered while closing the book and placing it back below the counter. "Now," handing Harry something that resembled one of Fred and George's fake wands, "wave that about and it'll adjust itself to yer preferred wand length and handle shape. Right, 11 inches. Now to pick out the runes and the core. Hold this," the stout man instructed, handing Harry a small rune-covered stone, "it will pick what yer magical affinity is, and which control and power runes should be carved into yer wand."

The second the stone hit Harry's hand it began to glow with a strange eldritch light. "What does this mean?" Harry asked the now pale wandmaker.

"All of them, it means that I be to carve all of the runes into yer wand." For the first time, Harry thought he detected a hint of curiosity or respect in Whizzpopper's gaze. Shaking himself, the decrepit man got back to business. "Last thing be the cores. The stone be sayin' that yer affinities are fire and air, so ye need a core that reflects that."

 _Fire and air?_ It was news to him. Harry shrugged to himself, he supposed it explained his love of flying, and his ease casting _Incendio_ , and even _Fiendfyre_. He did seem to end up hanging around flying and fire-breathing creatures a lot, too: dragons, phoenixes, Dementors, threstrals, Veela, owls. He felt a twinge of loss as he thought of Hedwig. It would be a long time until his beloved friend would be born.

Snidely Whizzpopper consulted a grimy list of moth-eaten parchment. "Hmmm, let's see. Cores from fire creatures: cherufe scale, chimaera mane, cockatrice feather, hellhound fur, lampad hair, salamander scale. And for air creatures: djinn hair, gargoyle skin, lamassu feather, manticore horn, nue heartstring, thestral hair." He glanced over at Harry with his rheumy eyes. "Best core fit would be from a creature of both fire and air, which means: phoenix feather, dragon heartstring, eefrit feather, Veela hair or longma scale."

"Sounds like a plan – make me, say, five with each core."

"Five? That's 25 wands!" the man spluttered.

"Always good to have spares if I lose one or somebody snaps it," Harry said sensibly. He'd work out later which type of wand worked best with his new body and magical core. "Is that going to be a problem?"

"Well," he said slowly, "labour be no problem, I got plenty o' time on me hands. Biggest problem will be getting me hands on the cores; heartstring's fine, that's what dragon reserves be for … Chinese Fireball probably be the best match there … phoenix feathers be difficult, but I did see a couple floatin' around the Viennese markets; longma scales and Veela hair are rare though. Can't be makin' no promises about those. Tell ye what, 280 galleons and it be done."

"Only if you have them ready by the Christmas holidays. And you make them look identical to this one," he held out his current wand, "at least to the casual observer. And you'll throw in a dozen wand holsters to carry them in. Auror-grade, none of that woodoo hide shite; I don't want to blow my own arm off putting my wand away. Fair deal?"

"That it be."

"Yes it is," Harry corrected absentmindedly, his inner Otter taking over momentarily. If the man heard him, he gave no sign of it.

"The wood all be the same, so I be carving a glyph onto the base of the handles with the name of the core's source and a number, so ye know which one yer usin'," the man mumbled thoughtfully.

"Excellent," said Harry, putting down 100 gold pieces as a deposit, and grabbing the nearest wand holster of any quality. "When you're done, deliver them to Account Manager Goldenrod at Gringotts. Care of Mr Black. He'll get them to me."

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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On his way back to Diagon, Harry noticed an odd sign. "Borgin & Burke's Bargain Basement Bin?" He stepped inside the tiny room. "This is part of Borgin & Burke's?" he skeptically asked the hag tending the till. B&B tended to cater to the wealthier, more upmarket clientele's dark and rare objects needs.

"This look like B&B to you?! We sell their surplus, stuff the rich toffs don't want."

Harry's eye was drawn to a whole trunk full of used wands, he picked up a few and tested them. One of them gave a few weak sparks. The rest had barely any response. Still, some may match the Marauders; it never hurt to have spares in case any of your friends had theirs snapped or stolen. "Ministry Trace on any of these?" he demanded.

The hag snorted, and then spat out the globule of mucus she'd almost swallowed. "'Course not, I look like a narc to you?"

"I wouldn't know, would I? It'd be a pretty stupid narc to dress the way I'd expect 'em to." He pointed to the trunk. "How much are they?"

"Twenty sickles per wand."

 _The Grim laughed derisively._

"Morgana's monocle they are – I'll give you a galleon for the whole trunk, and that's more than they're worth! Or the lot can just sit here and rot for the next few decades."

"Deal," she said sourly. Harry tossed her the coin and emptied the contents of the trunk into his mokeskin pouch, except for the wand that had worked for him. He left B&BBBB and made haste to get to his next task as quickly as possible.

After a few minutes of rapid progress, he glanced down one of the side streets to behold something truly magical: at first his eyes skipped over it, but then they fixed upon it and Harry's jaw dropped in shock when he saw a tantalizingly familiar logo on one of the shops down the spur road. "'Ghostbusters'," he read in awe. Then his eyes noticed the motto: "'We ain't afraid of no ghost'." That confirmed it. He had to go in! Hurrying over, he realised to his supreme disappointment that it was currently closed. Casting a feeble _Tempus_ with his new second-hand wand, he discovered that it was close to 10pm. "Have to come visit you some other time," he whispered regretfully, and continued on his way.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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Harry could feel the wards reach out to his magic as he approached his former residence at Grimmauld Place, aggressive, vicious, oily, and unclean. Taking another few steps forward, the resistance dramatically increased. He could feel his heartrate increase and all the hairs on his body stand on end as the sharp invisible spines poked and prodded at him suspiciously.

Willing his Black Headship ring into existence on his finger, he held his hand aloft and announced, "You will grant entrance to Lord Black!" He could _feel_ the wards shudder, and then tendrils of power lanced through him, evaluating and scrutinising. After several minutes, the resistance abruptly disappeared. It felt like a wall he was leaning against dematerialised; and he was at the front door glaring at the hideous knocker, which glared right back. _Open_ , he thought, and the door swung open before him.

Striding rapidly through the house (every door opening obediently before him, and closing itself once he had passed), he swept into the main study of ex-Lord Orion Arcturus Black, the heretofore Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Black. The man in question sat behind his opulent desk, jaw open in shock as a complete stranger traipsed through the darkest, deadliest wards in Britain as if they were his own. Yet to his credit, he was able to master his emotions and immediately challenged the intruder.

"You test my undeserved patience by showing your face here, interloper. Do you possess a valid reason for why I shouldn't kill you where you stand?" he warned in deep baritone.

"Because," Harry replied, voice light and airy as he casually pulled an aged, leather bound journal from its shelf and glanced through it idly. "It would be the mark of a fool to attempt to assassinate the Lord of a Most Ancient and Most Noble House. Especially of the House you still, for the moment, belong to." Turning to face the older man, the stranger fixed him with a devious smirk. "Are you a fool, _dear_ Orion?"

A brief whisper of warning from the wards, and Harry jerked to the side to avoid the blur of green that flew passed his head. Drawing on his rat-enhanced reflexes, Harry swiftly flicked his wand at Walburga Black, who had snuck up behind him through a hidden passage, while hurling the book with the other hand. The mistress of the house dodged the first two hexes but the book caught her in the face, distracting her enough for his third curse to catch her in the chest. The woman from whose womb Sirius came from, was flung across the room, smashing into one of the many bookcases which lined the walls of the study. Snatching her wand from the air, Harry rolled inelegantly to a more defensible position and observed the other person in the room.

Watching as his wife collapsed brokenly under an avalanche of priceless tomes, Orion remained still behind his large oaken desk, making no move to aid the woman who had given birth to his children. "Kreacher!" he commanded. The withered house elf appeared with a pop, ready to do murder on his master's behalf.

"Go away, Kreacher!" Harry snapped. Kreacher promptly vanished.

Harry chuckled softly, the sound filling the unnaturally silent office like the anticipating breath of a beast lurking just beyond its prey's field of vision, ready to pounce. "There was never any doubt that _she_ was a fool."

"You have the gall to come here and waste my time spewing such lunacy, stranger?" What little emotion Orion did allow to surface in his crisp, cold voice, was that of undisguised disgust. "To claim the Black family magics have chosen you over so many more deserving individuals of our own blood, even in jest, is the act of a _true_ fool. The day that you become the Lord Black is the day I would invite a filthy muggle to share a bed with my wife."

Summoning the journal and placing it back upon its shelf, its aged and cracked leather like sandpaper against his smooth, pampered hands, Harry retorted, "Perhaps you should get dear Walburga a potion for her head before you pick her out a nice dress, then. I hear they like floral designs." Holding up his right hand, Harry flipped the man a crude hand gesture, showcasing the dark-red, almost black garnet encircling his middle finger. The very same ring that Orion had worn for the past 30 years.

"If I were you, I'd make it an obligation of her new _mundane_ lover that he take her out for a nice dinner before their slap and tickle." Harry was certain that the cruel smirk he wore stretched widely across his features at seeing the naturally tan bastard pale to levels that Peeves would be envious of. "You know, make her feel like the special lady we both know her to be." These two people had harmed and driven away the closest thing to a father figure he had ever had in his life.

 _Refused to give him pocket money too, the Grim egged him on. And forced him to babysit Narcissa every other week. The dastards._

"Let me ask you the question you asked me just moments ago: why shouldn't I kill you right now?" All traces of his twisted humour disappeared along with the rest of his features as his eyes began to shine with an otherworldly glow. Harry pushed out his magic, pumping every ounce of his power into a shimmering aura that surrounded him. It was an old trick of Riddle's, which he often used to inspire awe and terror in opponent and bootlicker alike.

 _Now project your aura through the wards, Nagini instructed._

Harry had no idea how to do so, but gave it his best shot. After a moment, he felt the wards respond, and begin to resonate with his magic, amplifying its effects throughout the entire house. The books on the shelves trembled and objects on the desk bounced around as tremors swept through room. Static electricity crackled around them, supercharging the air with its intimidating, yet enthralling mystical humming.

Orion watched in horrified disbelief as all but the teen's eyes disappeared under an inky-black, undulating shadow that steadily expanded through the room. Twin sapphires gazed through him, piercing his very soul with their intensity and utter loathing. Silence reigned, broken only by the sound of Orion's fearful pants as he struggled to draw breath in the suddenly stifling room.

"If you choose not to speak, I'll have to assume that you want to die," Harry commented into the darkness. He watched as Orion hastily removed his wand from his robes, desperately holding onto it like a lifeline.

"Because…" Orion took a shuddering breath, attempting to calm his frayed nerves. He may have been unnerved by the display of power, but he'd be damned if he'd allow the blasted upstart know as much. "Because _I_ am the only one who can reveal all of the Black family magics to you."

"You may be hard pressed to believe it, but I can, in fact, _read_." Tone dry as he spoke, he strode slowly to the desk, making just enough noise as he moved to allow the man to know he was nearing. "It would only take me a small amount of time to learn our House's magics on my own. _Time_ … which I have more than enough of."

Swallowing thickly, Orion gave a small, humourless chuckle. "There are magics only the head of our family is privy to …"

Harry watched in shocked amazement as across the surface of Orion's exposed skin appeared glowing grey symbols that looked as if they were powered by the man's own magic. Over the planes of his aged, yet handsome face, trailing down his neck and up his slightly muscled arms, disappearing into the openings of his expensive robes were words of magic and power, all from different and varying runic languages. It was a sight that established and universally accepted magical theory told Harry should be all but impossible.

"Without me," Orion breathed, his form now visible to the naked eye thanks to the glow coming from the runes etched across his body, "the magic which first garnered the name 'Black' the respect we possess today, will be lost to you and any future heads that succeed you."

Harry considered that. This was a secret of House Black that he hadn't uncovered in spite of all his explorations of the Black properties and library. He'd naively thought that the hidden library under the house was the full extent of their secrets – the stupidity of that smug conclusion was now smacking him in the face. With Voldemort on the loose and at the height of his power, could he really afford to pass up a single advantage? And risk the death and destruction that would continue were he to ignore a single potential shortcut?

The answer was obvious. Harry gradually drew his aura back. "Orion Black, you have yourself a deal. Your family's lives in exchange for your House's secrets."

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	5. 3 So You've Ended Up in the Past

**Author's Note:**

This is both a HP reworking of "Back to the Future" themes, and a soft reboot/reworking of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" and other things written by Rorschach's Blot. Used with the permission of their original authors (except for "Back to the Future" of course). The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter or anything else. Full disclaimer in the Table of Contents.

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Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.

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Canon-compliant. HP&DH compliant (except the Epilogue). HP&CC compliant (except the conclusion). FB&WTFT compliant. Pottermore compliant (mostly). Some crossover with: Naruto, Ranma ½, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Twilight, Lord of the Rings and Avatar: The Last Airbender. Primarily Harry Potter though.

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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "The Seventh Horcrux" by Emerald Ashes.

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 **Chapter 3 – So You've Ended Up in the Past and Now Inhabit the Body of a Mortal Enemy: A User's Guide**

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There's a time and a place for getting a smart mouth.

– Ronald Bilius Weasley

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"Since Mr Snape and Mr Potter find themselves to be above listening to what I have to say about this term's project — a potion which will be difficult for even the best of you budding brewers, I assure you — they can both come up front where I can make sure they pay attention."

James and Severus glared daggers at one another as they gathered their things and made their way to the front of the classroom where the Professor had indicated. Horace Slughorn looked on in disappointment as two of the more promising members of his Slug Club begrudgingly stalked to their places before him. Why couldn't the talented duo see the benefits forming a friendship, or at the very least an alliance, would present them? Such a terrible waste in talent.

"From now until I say otherwise, the two of you will be partners in all assignments in which pairs are required. This, of course, includes your end-of-term project." Horace held his hand up, stopping their anticipated objections before they could even begin. "Anything more said on the subject will see the two of you as partners for the remainder of your time under my tutelage. Am I understood, gentlemen?"

Wearing their disapproval plainly upon their faces, James and Severus gave curt nods that they understood. It would have only served to further infuriate the two to know just how in sync their silent responses were, how similar the dark haired teens appeared in that brief moment.

"Miss Evans," Slughorn continued, a fondness that hadn't been present when addressing the boys shaping his tone now, "If you'd like, you may join an existing pair for today's assignment, since your original partner is now sharing a cauldron with Mr. Potter. Or, if you would prefer the challenge, you may attempt to brew today's potion on your own. I'll leave the choice in your very capable hands."

Lily spared the now sullen Severus a look of pity, but was interrupted before she could so much as utter a word in response.

"While I'm sure no one here doubts Miss Evans' brewing ability, I, on the other hand, could use all the help I can get." The class turned to find Peter Pettigrew lazily propped up in the doorway of the dungeon, looking to all the world as if he were only a few minutes late to class, whereas, in reality, he'd been missing from Hogwarts all morning.

"Peter!" The Marauders exclaimed in unison, the joy at seeing the return of their fourth member dancing merrily in their eyes. Harry favoured them all with a small smile.

"Mr Pettigrew," Slughorn started in surprise, "How nice of you to grace us with your presence."

Navigating his way through the seated Gryffindors and Slytherins, Harry unceremoniously dropped his bag atop the table Lily alone was occupying, sliding into the seat next to the redhead. "Mind being my partner?"

Eyes as curious as they were guarded, Lily nodded her consent. "As long as you can control yourself and contribute, I'm fine with working with you." Harry agreed, a weary smile playing on his lips.

"Mr Pettigrew," Slughorn called, diverting the class' attention to himself. "I take it from your Housemates' reactions that this is the first time they've laid eyes upon you this morning. I'm afraid for your tardiness, that will be 25 points from Gryffindor."

"Very understandable, sir."

Slughorn nodded. "Very well. Miss Evans, if you would, I'd like for you to go over the Angel's Trumpet Draught with Mr Pettigrew and make him aware of the more commonly-made mistakes which occur when brewing this particular concoction."

"As for the rest of you," Slughorn said, turning his focus upon the room at large, "you may go gather any ingredients you may be lacking from the supply closet. I will be walking amongst you, giving help to those who may require it." Ending his instructions, the whale of a man began manoeuvring amongst the closely arranged desks and the herd of bodies now making their way dutifully to the supply closet.

"Alright Pettigrew, I need you to get us Moonseed Berries, Sea Lavender, Silver Lime leaves, and Hornbeam shavings." Lily ordered without looking away from the flame at the base of their shared cauldron, carefully adjusting it to the exact temperature the draught called for. "When you return we can begin."

Nodding, not that she noticed, Harry started for the supply closet, being sure to take a route that would take him directly by his young sorta-father.

"Wormy," greeted the grinning Potter as his long haired friend approached. "Where have you been? You were gone all night; we've been right worried about your ugly ass!"

"Dealing with pressing family matters," he answered vaguely, nodding to Remus as he came to a stop next to him.

"It's good to have you back." Smiling tiredly up at him, Remus readjusted his hold on the ingredients he had acquired prior to joining them. "Maybe now that you've returned, James will be able to calm down some."

Harry raised an amused eyebrow at the bespectacled teen. "What? Did you forget how to cast the contraceptive charm, _again_?" he asked, only slightly kidding. Now there had been a memory of Peter's he'd gotten a good laugh from.

"Ass," James grumbled good-naturedly, his features only staying in a pout for a second before a cheeky smirk quickly overtook his face.

"Padfoot and I had to stop Prongs on more than one occasion from coming to hunt you down." Remus shook his head in amusement at their now sheepish looking friend. "Not that he would have been successful in the first place. He's is as bad as they come where tracking spells are concerned. Not that any of the rest of us are much better, mind you."

"I can't help it if my considerable talents lie in different branches of magic," James huffed indignantly. "Tracking magic is troublesome for even the best witch or wizard."

"We all know you need little help getting into trouble, Potter." Severus appeared on the opposite side of the table of Harry and Remus, his face twisted into a sneer that made him look as if he were smelling something particularly foul. "I see you failed to do as I asked and prepare the cauldron's flame."

"Sod off, Snivellus!" James spat nastily, prodding the aforementioned flame angrily.

"Not having another disagreement, are we boys?" Professor Slughorn came to a stop at the head of the two person table, his large belly coming dangerously close to bumping the wooden structure. "It would be unfortunate if I were forced to permanently revoke your right to choose your own potions partner. A punishment, I'm sure, no one would find comfort in."

"Well then, I'm off," chuckled Remus, hastily making his way back to his and Sirius' work area so as not to draw the professor's ire.

"And you, Mr Pettigrew," the potions professor said, turning his bristly, walrus-like moustache in his direction. "Should you not be gathering what you need for Miss Evans?"

"Probably," Harry nodded. Surveying the room and noting that he was the only one who hadn't returned to his seat yet, he saw that it was the perfect time to get the glutton of a man alone. "Professor, would you mind giving me a hand? There are a few questions about the draught I'd like to ask you before we begin."

Looking only slightly taken aback, Horace nodded. Sending the Slytherin and Gryffindor partners a final stern look of warning, he followed the teen out of the room and into his adjoining office. Harry shut the door and quickly cast several privacy charms, then turned to regard the man who'd set Tom Riddle on his way to becoming the nigh-immortal Lord Voldemort. And then withheld vital information about it for decades. It was almost enough for Harry to decide against making his proposal to the greedy Slytherin — _almost_!

"So what can I do for you, m'boy?"

"I was hoping to ask you something, Professor. You know, privately; one Slug Club member to another ..."

 _Being attached at the hip to the alpha dogs of your year group sure comes with some useful benefits and contacts eh, King Slug? drawled the Grim._

 _Bite your tongue, mongrel! snapped the Dormouse. I deserved my spot in the Slug Club far more than that Grim-boy did! Just because I sucked at Transfiguration doesn't mean I'm as dunderheaded as McGonagall thinks!_

"Is that so? Well, Mr Pettigrew, you know my door is always open to my special protégés. Especially a brilliant young developing potions master-to-be, such as yourself."

"Very kind of you, Professor," Harry demurred modestly. "I'm nowhere near the league of Evans or Snape."

"But very close," Slughorn assured him. "With the right application of elbow-grease, you could almost match their skill-level; the wizarding world needs all the talented potioneers it can get."

 _Hah! snorted the Dormouse, 'almost match' he says! Neither Lily nor Snapie ever brewed a Class X necromantic resurrection potion to revive the shade of a Dark Lord to corporeality! How's that for 'genius', Snivellus?!_

 _Who put the arsenic in your teapot, boy? quirked Harry in amusement._

 _I think he's still a bit steamed by the thought of Snape lording over Pettigrew for years during their Death Nibbler phase, pontificated the Otter absently, as she leafed through another scroll._

 _Prek! agreed the Owl._

 _Thinks he's so great at bottling fame and brewing glory, grumbled the Dormouse resentfully, try telling that to a potions master who actually_ did _put a stopper on death!_

"Tell me, Professor Slughorn, a man as eminent as yourself must be well-connected to a number of powerful and influential individuals, no?"

A fraction of an inch of self-satisfied smile ghosted across the man's thin lips. Harry could see how the way the man puffed out his chest caused further strain for the poor buttons of his waistcoat. "Correct you are, my boy," he chuckled. What portion of his cheeks not obscured by his bushy facial hair had taken on a boyish, rosy hue. "I can truthfully boast to having had a hand in many a great witch and wizard's prosperous futures. A good number of which, I might add, I still have the ear of to this day. I do hope I can presume to hold your ear once you establish yourself properly in the potions industry yourself, Mr Pettigrew?"

"Without a doubt, sir. Having all those contacts, it must make it easier for you to acquire rare and obscure and, dare I say it, dangerous potions ingredients for your research."

"Indeed, it does. As I'm sure you know, the Ministry is very strict with its regulations. All of which are needed, mind you, but are at times rather restricting and bothersome for those of us who are cut short for time and are in great need of objects and goods of a 'potentially' dangerous nature. My connections allow me to shortcut such laws that are unnecessary for an experienced Potions Master such as I."

"And all because you invited them to a couple of parties," Harry mused.

Slughorn laughed pompously, patting him condescendingly on the shoulder. "Never underestimate the impact of an act of kindness, however small or insignificant it may seem, when most needed. Now, my boy, why don't we cut to brass tacks – what do you want me to procure, and what are you offering in exchange?"

Harry raised his brows.

"Please, Mr Pettigrew, your approach was about as subtle as giant's fist. Do you think this is the first time that a Slug Club member has sought me out to obtain the base components for Firewhisky or love potion or liquid luck?"

"Very well, Professor: to be blunt, I need certain rare and hard-to-find materials. You can move about with an ease that is beyond me. If I were to continually disappear time and again, my friends would notice and make things complicated. I'm offering you a finder's fee and a percentage of each purchase I make."

"I'll have no part in the harm of others, Slug Club member or no," Slughorn declared piously.

"And you won't have to. All you need to do is get me what I require in a timely and discreet fashion. If you can do as much, you can expect the sums in your vault to grow substantially." So saying, he casually dropped a fat pouch onto the desk. The jingle of gold was unmistakable. Pulling a piece of parchment from his robes, Harry handed it to the rotund man.

"These items …" Slughorn murmured, the corners of his lips turning downward into a frown as he scanned the list.

"None of them are prohibited by Ministry regulations," Harry pointed out.

"Even so … difficult. Very difficult to obtain. Plus," the man said slowly, "these are all elements which can be used in rituals."

"Have some history with rituals, _do we_ , Professor?" Harry couldn't restrain a wisp of snark in his tone. Said man blushed, but said nothing in confirmation. "I'll require everything on that list before the first night of the waning gibbous."

Slughorn nearly dropped the parchment. "The waning gibbous!? But the full moon is in five days' time!" he blurted incredulously.

"Which leaves you with six full days to do everything that is needed. If it's too much for you and your connections, tell me now. Though it will be inconvenient, I can get what I need through other channels, like the goblins. The question you have to ask yourself is: how badly do you want my gold?"

Slughorn was torn between greed and wariness. Harry watched the struggle play back and forth across the man's face.

 _For somebody who likes to lecture others about subtlety, he's remarkably blatant with his own emotions, sneered Nagini._

"I insist that you to swear a magically-binding oath that nothing I may provide for you will be used for harming others. I cannot make an exception based on our close affiliation," Slughorn said firmly. "Otherwise you'll have to search out some other supplier."

"A sensible precaution," Harry agreed. "One can't be too careful in these troubled times." He gave the requisite magical oath, and the Professor almost sighed in relief as he drew his downpayment of gold tenderly to his bosom.

 _Pshaw! When has that man ever been sensible or cautious? demanded the Grim._

 _What do you mean? chirped the Otter curiously._

 _I meant the ever-so-Slytherin-among-Slytherins Professor hasn't a lick of caution in his body, pre- or not! Not when money, fame and connections are involved at least, explained the Grim. Look at his 'illustrious' record. Talking about horcrux black magic to a student; recruiting random nobodies like Ginny Weasley to his little Club; going walkabout with a student after curfew to collect restricted potions ingredients; handing over life-and-death memories to you just because you got him drunk and filled his pockets with Acromantula venom gold! It's amazing he outlived Dumbledore!_

 _Oi, that's my girlfriend you're talking about! Harry objected._

 _Well, from his perspective she was a nobody, the Grim shrugged. And worse, a poverty-stricken nobody. Honestly, playing favourites with a nobody just because she's got a vicious hex and right hook!_

 _Sounds like the way Sirius was recruited, snarked the Dormouse._

Ignoring his rival's jab, the Grim eyed the other redheaded female of their acquaintance as they left Slughorn's Office and returned to their desk. _Wonder what he did to drive Lily away from potions and into Flitwick's and Charms' arms? he mused. 10 to 1 it was for being a creepy bastard who'll do anything for anyone for a galleon._

 _Speak of the devil, what's she done to put these two jokers on edge? inquired the Otter._

Harry noticed both Severus and James giving the hard-at-work Lily baffled looks.

"Sorry for taking so long, the Professor and I were talking and we lost track of time," he apologised to his partner. Setting his potions supplies to the side, he pulled the Moonseed in front of him and began crushing the cherry-like berries, draining them of the needed juices the draught called for. Her silence was unbroken since his arrival. Harry couldn't help but feel as if the redhead next to him was purposely avoiding looking in his direction.

"The Silver Lime, please."

Pausing in his motions, he placed the mint looking leaves into her hand. "Did I somehow manage to piss you off?" he asked, noting that she still refused to look his way.

"No," she answered, her response coming far too quickly to be convincing. Crumbling the leaves into the cauldron, she sent him a strained smile that failed to reach her brilliantly expressive eyes.

 _What was that fake smile about?_ he wondered as he went back to extracting juice from the berries.

"Why were you absent this morning?" she asked abruptly, surprising him by breaking the silence that had fallen once more.

"Family business," he answered, deciding to stick to vague, yet truthful answers for the time being. There was no sense in telling long winded lies, which could possibly come back to bite him in the ass, when short, honest answers, which didn't reveal any real information, would be more than adequate.

"Are your parents alright?" she inquired, a touch of unidentifiable emotion entering her voice as she paused in her work to give him a concerned look.

"Last time I checked," he confirmed. "Hard to tell sometimes, them being on the other side of the world." Lily frowned at his words.

"Then why were you needed at home?" she pressed, trying and failing to not sound overly curious.

Harry spared her a small glance before going back to his work. _Great, a gossip hound, just what I need. Since when did queen bee Lily Evans, the darling of Hogwarts, ever care about insignificant little Peter Pettigrew?_ Trying to lighten the mood and defuse the cornered feeling he was getting, he joked, "They called me home for our annual sacrifice."

Lily stopped what she was doing to turn her wide, startled eyes upon him. " _Sacrifice_?"

"Yeah," he answered with false seriousness. "Each month we must dance naked beneath the full moon, bathing in the blood of a virgin goat in order to appease the Night Mother." His mischievous joy, however, was to be short lived. Unaware of how the red berry juice staining his hand closely resembled blood, he glanced over at his partner to see her naturally pale skin had become startlingly more so, surpassing the point of simply looking sickly and progressing to what one would expect of a character out of a Bram Stoker novel. He blanched at the look of horrified disbelief marring her natural beauty, never once considering how sinister he appeared with the scarlet fluid gracing his hands.

"It was a _joke_ , Lily." he quickly reassured her, giving a nervous look around the room to assure they weren't drawing any unwanted attention to themselves. "I promise that all forms of virgin livestock are safe around me."

Lily scowled, fighting against the embarrassed flush which threatened to overtake the entirety of her visage. "That's a first then, isn't it?" she snapped, making a point to turn her back to him as she returned to their assignment.

"What's a first?" Harry asked, more than a little confused by her odd behaviour.

"She's referring to the rumours that you get your jollies by performing inappropriate charms on goats." From the desk in front of them, Alice McKinnon had twisted around to grin cheekily at him. She and her lab partner Marlene broke into a fit a girlish giggles, both having obviously overheard Lily's sharp retort.

"What the hell?!" Harry hissed, now completely baffled by his mother's seemingly random bout of hostility. Stepping in close to her, forcing himself not to think about the pleasant warmth being in such close proximity to her resulted in, he spoke softly but urgently, attempting not to feed the eavesdroppers at the table before them with any juicy bits of gossip they were looking for. "Be careful about what you say! You'll make people think I'm a –"

"Man-slag?" she supplied unhelpfully, not bothering to turn from the bubbling contents of their cauldron to insult him.

"No, not a bloody man-slag — a livestock shagger!" In his annoyance, Harry spoke louder than he had meant to and was rewarded with the entire class turning to look at him with expressions that would be appropriate indicate head was gradually self-transfiguring into a _Mimbulus mimbletona_. It was abundantly clear that they all had overheard.

"Mr Pettigrew," Slughorn began over the barely contained snickers and giggles of his students, "is there something that the class or I should be made aware of?"

"No, sir." Harry blushed.

"Are you in need of help then?"

"No Professor, I'm fine."

"Then if you would be so kind, please refrain from causing anymore disturbances during my class."

"Sorry, Professor." he apologised, catching sight of Lily's self-satisfied smirk as he did. Deciding that it would be best not to say anything else that might set the testy redhead off, Harry spent the remainder of the lesson in silence. As they worked in silence, he pondered what it was that was causing her to act so hostile toward him.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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"Anything I can get for you, mate?"

Harry, along with James and Sirius, dejectedly watched as the fourth member of their group desperately binged himself on anything within reaching distance, whilst trying to preserve some semblance of his normal decorum and dignity.

Remus pulled himself from his overflowing plate, loaded with pink and juicy, rare cooked meats the Hogwarts' house-elves continued to replenish every time the youth made progress with what he had. Furiously wiping at his face, he attempted to fight off the unavoidable blush burning his cheeks.

"Thank you, but no," he whispered, as if someone nearby would overhear him and know what he was by the animalistic way he was gorging himself. It was the same paranoid fear that always got the better of him this time of month, even though no one could hear or see him through the wards they had erected around their small group — that they always put into place on nights like these. Nights when Remus would disappear into the evening's fading light with Madame Valentine or Professor McGonagall. Nights of the full moon.

Avoiding meeting their eyes, as if doing so would make them judge him for the monster he knew himself to be despite their many reassurances to the contrary, Remus pulled a large bowl of mashed potatoes toward him. "The more hardy foods I consume now, the easier the … _change_ will be." he explained for what could very well be the thousandth time.

Harry shook his head, watching as his friend somehow found space on his crowded plate for more than half the bowl of thick, cloud-looking vegetables. He hoped the little 'gift', he'd convinced the kitchen elves to add to Remus' repast, would help his friend. He watched on in silent amusement as James purloined a larger than what would have been deemed 'polite' bite of poultry, only to pale once he realised just how under-cooked the meat was. It was a mistake they all had made on occasion, one which never failed to earn, at the very least, a small round of chuckles.

"It's getting late," Remus sighed, sending a look of disgust at the still replenishing plate, pushing it as far away from him as possible to indicate that he was done. "I suspect Professor McGonagall is waiting for me."

"We'll meet you in the usual clearing in an hour, Moony," James murmured in an undertone. The others nodded in agreement.

Leading the group into the Entrance Hall, they were just beginning to climb the Grand Staircase when Harry suddenly felt as if he were being watched. Slowing only slightly, he pretended to laugh at the joke James was telling in an attempt to cheer Remus up. Using his ruse as an opportunity to peer around the hall for whomever it was that was spying on him, it didn't take him long to locate the group's stalker. Smiling wolfishly, Harry threw his arm around Remus' shoulder. "Come on, man, cheer up! You never know when some beauty is going to be looking your way."

Remus smiled weakly down at him. "I'll be sure and remember that."

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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"I'm going to kill every blasted bird within a hundred miles if someone doesn't shut that bloody tapping up!" Kicking the cover restricting his movements to the floor, exposing his almost completely bare form, Harry pulled his pillow over his head, attempting to reclaim the rapidly vanishing dregs of sleep before they became impossible to return to. They'd been up until the wee hours of the morn gambolling through the Forbidden Forest. The biggest down side of their explorations was always the day after.

"I'll get it," moaned an equally tired voice from the opposite side of the dorm. Sleep deprived and delirious, Harry's addled mind sluggishly connected the raspy tone to the second-largest of his dorm mates.

"Mhhmm, Lily …"

"Shut it, you horny bastard!" Harry snapped impatiently. He really _really_ didn't need to be hearing that.

"Really, Prongs," Sirius chided, throwing a blurry eyed look of disbelief at the dreaming Potter. "She should really see to getting a magically binding restraining order against you, mate. You're freaking obsessed!"

"I'm going to add male Gryffindors to my hit-list if I don't get some quiet!" Harry groused, his voice muffled by his pillow.

Rolling his eyes at the threat, Sirius unlatched the aged pane glass window, throwing it open with little regard for the animal that had woken them. Before he could try to untie the letter on what he instantly recognised as one of the Potter owls, the large, tawny avian had crossed the length of the dorm with a few minor flaps of its impressive wings.

Landing on James' sternum, the owl peered inquisitively down at his slumbering master with dark, intelligent eyes. It didn't take the creature long to grow annoyed by its young master's failure to acknowledge its accomplishment in completing its duty so superbly. With small awkward hops forward, attempting to maintain its footing with the wide envelope fastened to its leg, it gave a small bark of annoyance in an attempt to rouse the slumbering teen. Seeing no immediate change in James' peaceful features, the impatient creature gave what a curiously watching Sirius could only describe as a sigh of contempt, before it reached forward with its sharp beak and viciously tore into the boy's slightly parted lips, only just missing taking a chunk out of his tongue in the process.

"GAAAAAAHHHHH!"

Shoulders shaking in not so silent laughter, Sirius watched in great amusement as his glasses-wearing friend vigorously thrashed about, screaming in agony. The owl, which had been launched from James' chest, landed gracefully upon the edge of his four-poster bed, sending the wildly flailing teen a reproachful glare.

"Morgana's bushy nostril-hairs," Harry huffed, rolling out of bed. "Wailing like a bloody banshee." Boxers riding dangerously low on his hips, he ambled his way toward their private showers, only slowing in his frustrated trek to throw his pillow as hard as he could at James' grimacing face.

Snorting, Sirius turned back to the only other boy in the room at that point in time, only to find the messy haired teen to be having a glaring contest with his owl. It took the Grim animagus only a second to spot the thin trail of blood running down the Potter's chin.

"Blasted bird," James sneered, gingerly running his tongue over his injured lip. "I hope you end up as Hippogriff shite." Grabbing his wand, he flicked it at the offending owl, untying and summoning the letter with the single motion. He only just restrained himself from hexing the beast as it took off for the open window, leaving behind a warm 'present' on his sheets. "If only my Mum wouldn't kill me for her owl showing up without any tail-feathers … or a head."

James carelessly opened the thick envelope, ripping the wax seal bearing the Potter coat of arms from the back with the reckless abandon only a partially awake teen could accomplish. Steadily, as his gaze travelled over the expensive ink atop the equally expensive parchment, James' eyes grew more anxious and his posture more rigid. It wasn't until a rather tired-looking Peter and Sirius exited the showers that James looked away from his father's message. "Guys, take a look at this." James waved the parchment about. "Tell me what you think."

Falling bonelessly onto his bed, Harry listened to James read the letter out loud and was chagrined, though unsurprised to learn the contents. Fleamont Potter had written to his only son to explain that a somewhat troubling situation had developed within the Potter family. He warned that there may be major, or even minor for that matter, changes coming their way. The former Head of the Potters wouldn't go into detail, for as he said in the letter the chance of it being intercepted was too great to risk it. He did, however, tell James not to worry about any of it, and to focus on his schooling and enjoying his time with his friends, that he had only written him to prepare him should any 'drastic' changes take place between then and Christmas. All in all, a thoroughly unhelpful and infuriating missive for the Potter Heir.

"You think I should write back and ask for more details about what's happening? Or maybe even go see him?"

Harry shook his head, sending his wet and tangled locks to hang in his face. "From what he wrote, there's no chance of him writing anything more on the subject than what he's already sent."

"Yeah, but…" James trailed off, looking unsure as to what to say or do.

"If you're really that worried about it, why not write back and ask him to meet with you? Our first Hogsmeade weekend is in two weeks, get him to meet you then," Sirius suggested. "Or better yet, ask if it'd be okay for you to Floo home at that time. I doubt they'd refuse that."

"You're right," James agreed pensively. Giving his head a small shake to rid himself of turbulent thoughts, he looked to his best friend, intent on telling him to give him a minute to get ready, but stopped when he saw Sirius pulling on a pair of warn-from-age-and-devoted-reuse sleeping pants.

"Aren't you going to get dressed for class before we go down to breakfast?"

"I'm not going to breakfast," Sirius announced, grabbing the sheets he had kicked to the floor earlier as he crawled into his bed. "I'm not even going to class."

"You're skiving the entire day?" James asked, adjusting his glasses more out of habit than necessity. Even from what little he could see of his best mate's features, most of which were obscured by the sheets he had pulled haphazardly over himself, it was clear to see that Sirius was exhausted. "You won't miss more than two periods before Minnie's up here lecturing you on how 'proper and respectable' Gryffindors should conduct themselves."

"Probably." Groaning childishly at the sun streaming through the dorm's only window, Sirius pulled the thin sheets draped across him over his head, too tired to cast a shading charm on the window. "I'm knackered. I need a 'me-day.'"

James rolled out of his bed, pillow in hand as he made his way over to his friend's unmoving form. "Here you are then," he said with a smile in his voice, tossing the pillow onto his chest. "I'll try and throw McG off your trail when she comes searching for why you weren't in class." Taking his wand, he pointed the 11 inches of pliant mahogany at the window, silently transfiguring the clarity of the glass to a much darker, tinted shade.

Giving a tired yawn that made his eyes water, Sirius snaked his hand out from under his covers, quickly pulling the pillow into his personal sanctuary. "Thanks, mate."

James waved his hand dismissively, aware as he did so that the gesture would go unnoticed by its intended recipient. "No need to mention it. We're mates. Lying for one another is in the job description."

By the time James finished his own shower, washed and feeling moderately more awake, Harry was lounged across his bed, his uniform wrinkling as a result, while Sirius was still buried under a mantle of blankets, snoring obnoxiously. More surprising, however, was the fourth Marauder's presence. Remus sat atop his bed, fully clothed and surrounded by what could have passed for a makeshift wall, but what was in reality a large number of books that the young werewolf had collected from the Library before arriving.

"Remus! You're up and about!" Normally, the mornings after his transformation, Remus would be left in great amounts of pain, his body unable to move without making said pain worse. This morning, contradictory to all past experience, he was up, appearing to have been so for some time, rapidly flipping through and scanning each of the books that surrounded him.

"Bit early to begin obsessing over your homework, don't you think?"

"It's not homework," Remus answered vaguely, not bothering with looking up from his book.

James came to a stop at the foot of his bed, picking up a few of the books strewn about around him. " _'Fantastical Beasts of the Forbidden Forest and Where to Find Them'_ , _'Secrets of Werewolves, Wyverns and Wendigo_ ', _'Extinct, Fabled and Rare Beings of the Scotland Isles_ '." As he listed off the different titles of the tomes he had picked up, James' eyebrows rose progressively higher.

"Got an itch you're needing scratched?"

Remus paused in his reading, looking up from the tomes he was quickly realising were utter rubbish. Useless, the lot of them! Not even a hint that could explain the bizarrely peaceful and pain-free transformation of yesternight. The red mist hadn't even descended over his consciousness! It was clear the answers he sought could only be found from an expert. But where could he find a werewolf expert around here? "I need to find someone," he announced.

"Don't we all?" sighed James.

"That's not what I meant."

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	6. 4 The Right Rite

**Author's Note:**

This is a continuation/soft reboot of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse, with a bunch of changes. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" by Rorschach's Blot. Both are used with the permission of their original authors. The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter, Alice in Wonderland, Anchorman, Austin Powers, Avatar: the Last Airbender, Blackadder, The Barber of Seville, the Bible, Discworld, Dragonball Z, Evil Dead, How It Should Have Ended, Farscape, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Futurama, Game of Thrones, Inglourious Basterds, Great Expectations, Heart of Darkness, Indiana Jones, Inuyasha, Keeping Up Appearances, Lolita, The Lone Ranger, The Marriage of Figaro, Mazes and Monsters, Monte Python, Naruto, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Pinky and the Brain, Pokémon, Popeye, Ranma ½, Red Dwarf, Robot Chicken, The Simpsons, Snakes on a Plane, South Park, Star Trek, Star Wars, Terminator 2, The Thousand and One Nights, Troll 2, Tomb Raider, Yes Prime Minister, White Chicks, and the works of Edgar Allen Poe, HP Lovecraft, Roald Dahl, Shakespeare, or anyone else.

Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.

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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "Harry Potter and the Turn of the Shrew" by Suekeiichi Kaiton.

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 **Chapter 4 – The Right Rite**

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Better keep your distance from the crimson crime warpath

She'll cut your heart like diamonds, end of story

You bet you're gonna lose it to that hell-bound crimson glory

– _Redhead Walking_

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"Where are you going?"

Harry turned at the sound of the recognisable voice. Lily stood alone before him, her arms crossed authoritatively.

"Does it matter?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"You're supposed to be heading back to the Tower."

He cocked his head. "If I'm not mistaken the sixth years' curfew doesn't go into effect until ten. I should be fine for at least the next hour and half." Seeing that Lily didn't plan on letting the subject go, he propped himself up against the wall. "Shouldn't you be showing firsties the way to classes or helping underprivileged students with their homework or whatever else it is that Head Girls do, instead of stalking me around the castle?"

"I'm not _stalking_ you — I just happened to see you heading off this way," she defended. "You've already destroyed public property, made spectacle of yourself because you had no self-control, and your 'best mate' has just lost Gryffindor 65 points for transfiguring Severus into a dungbeetle — don't you think it's wise to call it a night?"

Reaching into his pocket, Harry withdrew a powder-blue cigarette that looked as if it had been rolled by hand. "First off," he started, pausing to wandlessly ignite the cigarette hanging from his lips. "Despite popular belief, I'm _not_ James Potter or his minion — so you trying to hold me accountable for his 'evils' is patently unfair. Second, I've abstained from any behaviour to warrant your suspicions. If anything, I've been on my best behaviour. So what exactly is your problem with me?"

Lily was momentarily taken aback by his frank tone. Not used to having an actual conversation with the boy, she was left unsure how to respond. "You're not wearing your dress slacks and smoking is prohibited upon the castle grounds," she finally pointed out.

Harry sent her that same genuine smile she had only seen once before, as he took a long drag of Peter's bad habit. "This," he said, indicating the smoke between his lips, "is made up of the leaves of a plant known simply as Melancholia. An apt name, for you see, when its smoke passes into your bloodstream it causes the smoker to experience an overwhelming sense of melancholy. They say its effects are comparable to that of a person who's lost a loved one, and I can confirm that that 'they' are correct."

Lily gave a horrified gasp as she watched him take another drag of the blue drug. "Why would you smoke that if causes you such pain?" She surprised him with the look of deep remorse she wore — if he hadn't known any better, he'd have believed she were the one causing him such heartache. "If you're unhappy, why would you want to make those feelings worse?"

Harry smiled. "It's an exceedingly rare event, but every once in a while the leaves have the opposite effect on the smoker. Instead of causing them heartache, it shows them what it feels like to love … and to be truly loved." Harry could already feel the drug's effect starting to overtake him, as he watched his future mother try and comprehend. "So I think I'll keep on smoking this, rules or not, thankyou very much."

"Why?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"To remind me of my loved ones who died, disappeared, or are so far away they might as well be either of the above. To remember what it felt like to be surrounded by them. We're in the middle of a war. Any day could be my last." His answer was so vulnerable and honest that it took everything Lily had not to go forward into the poisonous smoke and give him the hug she so desperately wanted to give him. A little bit of smoke was a small price to pay if it meant getting a few seconds of that love back.

"Look at the time, Lils. If I'm to do what's needed before curfew, I'd better get moving." Pushing off from his place against the wall, he scurried off down the hallway, leaving behind a pensive Head Girl who wasn't sure what had just transpired between her and the boy she thought she knew.

"Sooner or later, you'll see that I'm not as bad a person as you believe," he called over his shoulder as he disappeared into the twists and turns of the second floor corridor.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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The barely audible patter of her flats traversing the thick, twisted roots littering the Forbidden Forest floor filled Lily's hearing like claps of Earth-shuddering thunder. Her damp and tangled auburn locks hung unrestrained in her heart-shaped face, clinging to her petal-pink lips and obscuring her vision. For what felt like the thousandth time since she had left the castle and entered the misting evening air, she anxiously brushed her locks from her eyes, attempting to remain hidden from her quarry.

It had been six days since Peter Pettigrew had shown up late and asked to be her Potions partner. Six days since she had stumbled upon Professor Slughorn and his latest client's conversation, by way of the listening charm she had cleverly shot at the sole of the short boy's shoe as he walked into the Professor's office. In which her classmate had all but bribed one of her favourite teachers into a shady, and if what the Professor had said was true, likely-illegal agreement to sneak questionable items into Hogwarts. Furthermore, from what she could discern from their words, Peter was planning on performing some form of ritualistic magic. Lily would admit to knowing next to nothing on that rather obscure branch of magic, but what she did know was that it was outlawed by the British Ministry of Magic. And that was enough to let her know of the potential dangers said rituals presented.

Since that day, she had found herself secretly tailing Peter whenever the opportunity presented itself. Watching him in class for any sign he was up to something untoward, sneaking out of the common room late at night to try and track his night-time movements, even sitting closer to him and his friends than she normally would have, attempting to overhear any plans he might let slip while relaxed and conversing with them.

As a result of her constant and unpredictable disappearances, her friends were all under the assumption that she was sneaking off to see a boy, including Severus. That had been a _fun_ few conversations. She hadn't told her best friends nor anyone else, especially any of her Professors, what she'd overheard. Head Girl or not, it would be her word against that of another student and a Professor. But more so than that, she had remained silent for fear of revealing herself and what she knew to Slughorn and Pettigrew.

Even as she had followed the younger of the two, Lily couldn't quite bring herself to understand why it was that Slughorn had agreed to take part in such a transaction. While it was true the man liked to play favourites, the Potions Professor had always appeared to be a good, honest man. It had been evident to her from his words that he had been concerned by Peter's request, but then why had he eventually agreed? It was quite transparent to all that Slughorn could be a greedy, venal. materialistic individual, as proven by his constant need to 'collect' talented students and his love of the finer things in life, but to Lily it had never appeared as if he were the type to actually bend the law to gain either. Okay, so none of it sounded like it was illegal per se, but didn't sound firmly on the side of Light either.

Having followed Peter from the library, she cast the most powerful disillusionment charm on herself that she could manage. She mimicked his path through the twist and turns of the castle, allowing him to unknowingly lead her to the dungeon in which their Potions lessons were held and also to where Horace Slughorn's Office was housed. Silently praising herself for having the forethought to hide her scent and any noises she may have made while following him through the use of a few advanced and relatively obscure charms she had picked up during her time spent combing the far reaches of the library, she was able to slip between Pettigrew and the door as it closed without either of the office's occupants being any the wiser of her presence.

To say the interaction between the two males had been a brief one would have been an understatement. Slughorn had offered up an unusually large vial (practically a corked vase) of unknown red substance, receiving a palm-sized bag of galleons in return. Few words were shared between them, Slughorn looking at the unassuming bag like it was, well, gold, and Peter in too great of a hurry to bother with much more than the obligatory pleasantries.

As quickly as they had come, Lily followed Peter (who had conjured a hooded robe before leaving Slughorn to count his money) from the dungeons and out into the darkening evening. The smell of rain, damp earth and foliage mixing with the many woodsy, unidentifiable scents and smells carried on the gentle wind pulling at her clothing and hair.

The first generation witch hesitated for a fraction of a second before she followed the hooded teen into the aptly named Forest. So caught up in her stalking was she that the thought of retrieving a Professor and leading them to where he had disappeared into the dense woods, never crossed her mind. Had she been thinking properly, now or even over the past six days, she would have realised that it was so much more than her need to bring a lawbreaker to justice that drove her to such rash actions as trailing a possibly dangerous individual for days, and continuing to do so until she followed him into the very real dangers the Forbidden Forest presented. No, it was much more than her sense of justice which drove her on. It was her insatiable curiosity and thirst for knowledge.

A need to know all that she could about magic and the people who wielded it. It was the devil disguised as an angel upon her shoulder which drove her hunger to learn, discover, submerge herself in all that the wizarding world had to offer. It was a need that had led to her almost being Sorted into Ravenclaw. A hunger which, had the Hat not warned of the dangers such a move would place her under, would have seen her wearing the green and silver of Slytherin instead of the red and gold of Gryffindor.

For how long she had followed the black silhouette, Lily was unsure. Afraid that casting the _Tempus_ charm would expose her, she had only the gradual transition from the barely distinguishable tint colouring the sky when they had first ventured outside, to the much fainter shade of the sun's rays that were now feebly fighting their way through the dense canopy overhead.

Stalking fluidly over and through the treacherous shrubbery and thick foliage clawing at her ankles, Lily kept what she hoped was a safe distance behind Pettigrew. Any further and she would have lost him. As it was, with how dark the Forest around them had become the further in they travelled, the space between each of the wide trees lessening every few steps, it would have been next to impossible for her to track him down once lost.

Just as the girl was beginning to question her hasty decision to follow him without definitive knowledge of what it was he was actually up to, a slight wavering of light off in the distance caught her eye. However, before she could make out the source of the far off beacon, all traces of its faint glow disappeared, obscured by the tall figure she was doggedly pursuing. Cursing softly under her breath, Lily hastened forward, her intent to discover what the light was, was driving her to be recklessly loud. It was this, her sudden heedlessness that led to what happened to her next.

Eyes trained on a far off light, she failed to notice the vast body bearing down on her from the foliage above. A vice-like grip latched on to her ankle and her world inexplicably reversed, a large, hairy form with too many watery, disgusting eyes the size of a grown man's fist, and the many long, tree trunk sized legs attached to her attacker's body.

Frozen in terror for but a moment, the panicking girl managed to whip out her wand, and with trembling voice cry out, _Lumos maxima!_ She closed her eyes tightly against the sudden supernova of light that erupted. The beast emitted a high-pitched shriek, and suddenly the crushing vice on her leg vanished, and she was tumbling down to the ground. She hit hard, a painful thump that drove the wind from her. Opening her eyes, she could see the creature writhing in pain, but diving down sightlessly towards its prey, undeterred.

She frantically rolled to the side, barely missing the giant legs that silently slammed into the soft leaf-covered soil. Scrambling towards a nearby stone outcropping, she dived behind the nearest shelter, and shakily found her feet again. The creature, hearing her footfalls and gasps for air, lurched towards her once more, chittering in fury, its mandibles flexing ominously.

 _Incendio!_ A huge fireball erupted from her left and slammed into its face, prompting a keen of pain and rage. The beast flailed around helplessly, before collapsing to the earth. Its many limbs twitched for a time, but eventually became still as the grave. Choking on the disgusting stench of burning spider, Lily turned to find her saviour and quarry eyeing her with a mixture of curiosity, concern and suspicion.

"Miss Evans," Harry stated blandly. "Rather a surprise to find you here. I didn't expect a student of your upstanding and conscientious reputation to be slumming around the Forbidden Forest in the middle of the night."

"I could say the same thing about you," she panted.

"I was never upstanding or conscientious," he replied wryly. "But what I am is familiar with this Forest."

"What … what was that thing?" pointing a shaky finger at the smoking carcass that filled the clearing.

"One of Hagrid's 'beloved pets'," he drawled. At her questioning look, he elaborated. "Acromantula."

"Are … are there any more of these … _things_ out here?"

He stiffened. "Funny you should say that," he murmured.

All around the clearing, a dozen more of the gigantic spiders had silently arrived. Looking around, Lily saw with a sinking feeling that the two students had been completely surrounded.

"Back to back!" Harry snapped, and they (as one) dropped into duelling starter positions. Wands raised, eyes rotating back and forth across the entire field of vision, backs to their comrade.

With enraged hisses, the Acromantulae charged. And suddenly the valley was engulfed in red light and flame, and the boy and girl knew no more.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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Lily groaned and opened her eyes. Sitting up, she realised she was still in the trackless depths of the Forbidden Forest. A quick scan of her surroundings showed not a single Acromantula in sight. This was also a different valley. At her side lay a slumbering Peter Pettigrew. She poked his belly. He grunted and rolled further away. Further poking prompted him to grumble, "Go 'way, Ron. Fifteen more minutes."

Lily had no idea who 'Ron' was, but lying around in a place swarming with dangerous magical creatures was not her idea of a prudent course of action. Standing up, she gave him a firmer tap with her foot, and with some more cajoling, eventually he awoke. Blinking, he also stood and looked around.

"Hmmm, that's not something you see every day," he said mildly, stretching his arms and legs.

Lily stared incredulously. "That's all you have to say about it?" she demanded.

Harry ignored her, busy patting down his clothes. "Let's see, wand still here, supplies still here, they were even kind enough to bandage me up."

"Who?"

He blinked. "Whoever saved us, of course."

"I see you're back with us."

The two friends whirled, wands drawn on the stranger at the other end of the clearing. Identification was impossible as the person wore a long, black robe with the cowl pulled low over its face. The voice was too soft to be able to discern any details.

"It's good to see your reflexes haven't suffered any," the figure commented sardonically.

"Were you the one who rescued us?" asked Lily. The person nodded.

"The rest of your equipment is where you left it, in the clearing 100 metres to your left. Don't forget to add the unicorn blood. Dawn is in eight hours, you may wish to hurry." With that, the robed figure stalked off into the darkness.

The two students looked at each other.

"Um, are you okay?" Harry asked tentatively. She looked unharmed, but you never could tell how Lily was going to react to anything.

Lily patted herself down. "Yeah. I'm all good. Now let's get back to Hogwarts before anything else happens to us."

But Harry was already walking off into the clearing that their rescuer had referred them to. Spotting his pack, just like it had promised, he immediately began unpacking the ingredients, adding the supplies he had in his pocket to the collection.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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"You're not even the slightest bit curious about ritual magic?" he asked. It had only taken 15 minutes of nagging, cajoling, threatening and bargaining before Lily had finally given up on persuading him to return to Hogwarts immediately. She sat a short distance away, arms folded in displeasure.

"It's a Dark Art," she shot back stubbornly.

"Some of it, sure," Harry agreed. "Doesn't mean all of it is. Especially not if it's for protection, like this is."

"I still think we should give it up and go back."

"And wait an entire month until the next time the moon is right? No thanks. By that point, I'm quite certain you'll have arranged for some sort of 'coincidental' events to occur that would 'just happen' to 'unfortunately' prevent me from coming out here to perform it."

Her mouth snapped shut. That was exactly what she'd been planning.

"Well, don't let me keep you. Feel free to be on your way," Harry offered generously. He continued to carve the appropriate runes into the flat surface of the ground he'd prepared. Merlin, conjuring marble was tiring. Two rune sequences down, two more to go. Then it was a matter of laying out the ritual circle, adding the potions ingredients at the proper points of the pentagram and voilà, Bob's your monkey's uncle.

"I'm not leaving a student, not even you, alone in the Forbidden Forest overnight."

"You don't know the way back to Hogwarts, do you?"

That gave her pause. Looking around, and to the constellations above, she realised she didn't have the slightest idea in which direction the school was located. A twinge of fear raced through her.

"I'd be more than happy to escort you back. Once I've finished the ritual that is."

"I could just stun you and levitate you back, you know."

"And then you'd be stuck out here even longer, wandering around in circles."

"What's that stuff?" Lily changed the subject. She pointed to the vial of red liquid she had observed Slughorn give to him. "Looks a bit like hippogriff blood, but it's too viscous for that."

"Re'em blood. For increased strength."

"And that?"

"Vampire blood. For enhanced speed, night vision and sense of smell."

"I'm not even going to ask where you got these."

"That's probably for the best."

"Where's the unicorn blood?" she queried, double-checking their supplies.

"I never had any. Don't know what that person was talking about."

"Will it have any effect on the final outcome?"

"No idea; the instructions I was given didn't say anything about unicorn's blood one way or the oth– what's that noise?"

They paused and listened. A quiet nickering could be heard. Looking up, the two scofflaws spotted a creature at the edge of the clearing, observing their actions curiously. A four-legged hoofed magical mammal, silver hide and a long, sparkling horn sprouting from its forehead.

"A unicorn," Lily breathed reverently. She'd always dreamed of seeing a live on in the flesh.

"What are you waiting for?" whispered Harry.

"What do you mean, Pettigrew?"

"You heard our mysterious saviour: we need unicorn's blood. So chop-chop." He pressed an empty vial into her hand. "I'm sure you know the right spells for collecting blood samples, Miss Charms Genius."

"Here's an idea – why don't _you_ go get the insanely rare and insanely illegal potions ingredient yourself?" she replied testily.

"Because unicorns will only allow virgin females to approach them, duh," he said. "Don't you pay attention in COMC?" His eyes narrowed. "Or are you saying you no longer fit into that category?"

She punched his shoulder. "Shut it, cretin!"

"Then lay on, MacDuff!"

Grumbling to herself about pushy know-it-alls, she carefully stood and slowly inched her way towards the creature. It observed her with beautiful golden eyes, which held no fear, only amusement and keen interest in the strange beings' antics. It had to be a foal, given that it was barely as tall as she was. Lily cautiously held out her hand to its muzzle, allowing the animal to take a delicate sniff of her fingers. The a long, silver tongue unfurled and licked. She couldn't help giggling at the ticklish feeling. Feeling bolder, she reached forward and scratched the unicorn behind its ears. This prompted a pleased whinny, and a lowering of its head to give her easier access. Growing more comfortable, her hands wandered, stroking its white mane and rubbing its back. The unicorn nuzzled the sensitive joining between her neck and shoulder, causing her to squeal softly at the sensation.

"Um, I know this is a weird request but … may we please have a bit of your blood? For our protection?" She indicated herself and Harry, who had remained stock still where he was. Lily knew that for it to have any positive value, the unicorn would have to part with its blood of its own free will. Blood taken unwillingly or forcibly did have powerful magical properties, but contained a terrible curse that would haunt the user and anyone who benefited for the rest of their days. According to legend, there was more than one tormented ghost that had become that way due to abuse of unicorn blood.

The creature observed her placidly for a while, as if searching for something. Finally, it gave a brief nicker, then bent down. A quick jab of its sharp horn torn a short scratch on its foreleg, which it raised to her. "Thankyou," she whispered, giving it a soft kiss on the snout. Drawing her wand, she cast a charm used by mediwitches to extract blood, and let it collect in the vial. Remembering something, she reached into her robes and pulled out the spare apple she often kept with her to sustain her during long self-study periods, holding it out as a gift. The unicorn gave a sniff, then chomped down on it, swallowing it in one gulp. Casting one more appraising look, it turned and trotted away into the darkness.

Lily walked back to Harry in a daze. He wisely kept his silence, and continued to prepare the mystic circle.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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"No!"

"Come on, Lils."

"Don't call me that!"

"Okay. Come on, Lily-flower."

"Grrr. Don't call me that either!"

"Since you're already here, it'd be a bit of a waste if you didn't benefit from it as well."

"Didn't you say this was a secret ritual that nobody else should know about?"

"Yep."

"Then it's nothing to do with me," she replied primly.

"I think the secret's out as far as you're concerned," he replied in a dry tone. "In any case, brass tacks: Voldie-boy and his Death Eaters are killing and maiming and torturing every muggleborn and their family they can get their murderous mitts on. You're probably pretty high on their list already, given you're the most prominent, successful and popular muggleborn in the entire school. It must really stick in those pureblood bigots' craw every time you destroy them in grades and magical skill and influence! This ritual will give you extra help in defending yourself from all those bastards. It'll provide all sorts of protections against magical attacks, immunity to most poisons (especially with the unicorn's blood!), greater resistance against mind control, greater speed, reflexes, strength, energy, and assertiveness. You'll think faster and more clearly too."

"I don't like the idea of screwing around with my mind and body with weird obscure magic."

"Not even if it's to help keep you safe? And to help you keep your family and friends safe?"

"Why me? Why do you even care so much?!" she challenged in frustration. Harry reeled back. He was quiet as a churchmouse for some time.

"Because you're important to me," he finally said in a small voice. Lily did a double-take.

"What was that?"

"I said you're important to me, alright?!" he snapped defensively. "I care about what happens to you. I don't want to see you end up on the end of the Dark Tosser's wand, and I'd never forgive myself if I had a way to protect you and didn't use it." His shoulders slumped. "Especially if that one thing turned out to be the difference between life and death," he said in a defeated tone.

Lily was speechless. She'd never had the slightest inkling that Peter Pettigrew held such strong feelings towards her. He'd never so much as given a whisper of a hint (unless you counted sitting next to her in Potions class, but that was hardly evidence of anything), unlike his boorish meathead of a friend Black, who slobbered after anything pretty in a skirt, or his obsessive stalkerish leader Potter who … well, there was far too much there to unpack for this time of night.

Harry sighed. "I didn't want it to come to this, but don't make me call Life Debt on you."

"Eh?"

"I saved your life from that Acromantula earlier. That means you owe me a Life Debt. I'd never call it in, except for something like this, something for your own good. So you can either do this thing with me, and I'll consider the Debt paid in full, or else you'll have to go through the rest of your life with an unpaid Debt. Fiddly things, Life Debts," he said casually, flicking some dirt from his robe. "You never really know what sort of effects not paying one off will have on your life, your happiness, your magic. I hear the magical consequences can be quite insidious and far-reaching –"

"Okay okay I get it alright, you blackmailing son-of-a-Slytherin! I'll do the stupid ritual!"

Harry chuckled. "You don't even know how funny that insult is."

Finally the preparations were complete. Harry had both of them strip down to their underwear (Lily ordered him to turn his back and keep it that way) and step into the centre of the runic circle. It was small, so they had to squish together uncomfortably.

"I'd better not catch you taking liberties, Pettigrew, or so help me you'll be a eunuch before dawn."

"Duly noted. Okay, here goes nothing. Let's hope this turns out better than the last ritual I did."

"Wait, what? What do you mean by that?!" she demanded hotly.

"No time to explain! Here we go!"

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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"You see, that ritual is a Family Secret of the House of Black. Only the Head of the House may ever know of it, or use it," Harry explained what Orion had told him, as they made their way back to school. In the sky, the first light of dawn was feebly reaching through the foliage.

"But, you told me about it – and I did it too!"

Harry nodded. "That you did. Making you a de facto member of the House of Black. At least in the eyes of Magic." He grinned. "You're welcome. Allow me to be the first to congratulate you on your accession to one of the ancientest and noblest pureblood Houses of Britain! By which I mean one of the darkest and snootiest. You must be so proud."

Dodging her punch, he added, "Which also means you're under my jurisdiction as Lord Black."

Lily froze, feeling a cold pit developing in her stomach. "What does that mean?" she whispered in horror. "Does that me you can force me to … do things to you?"

Harry laughed at her ashen expression. "Of course not! Use that brilliant brain of yours, Evans! If the Lord of a House could order family members to do things against their will, how d'ya explain Sirius? Or Andromeda? How could they have openly defied their family's bigotry and fled to the Potters or Tonkses if Orion was able to simply compel them to tow the line?"

Her shoulders slumped in relief.

"You know, I should feel insulted that you automatically assumed I would trick you into magically enslaving yourself to me, for the purpose of … you know." He waved his hand vaguely. "Anyway, as it happens, there's really only one useful magical thing a Lord has over his family: he can compel them to keep Family Secrets."

She shot him an outraged glare, immediately grasping the implied meaning.

Harry shrugged. "Give me detention for being out of bounds after curfew if it makes you feel any better. But you won't be talking to anyone about this ritual without my explicit permission. For the sake of maintaining the secret traditions of the House. No ratting me out. That's a command from Lord Black. So mote it be!"

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	7. 5 Snuggle Bunnies

**Author's Note:**

This is a continuation/soft reboot of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse, with a bunch of changes. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" by Rorschach's Blot. Both are used with the permission of their original authors. The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter, Alice in Wonderland, Anchorman, Austin Powers, Avatar: the Last Airbender, Blackadder, The Barber of Seville, the Bible, Discworld, Dragonball Z, Evil Dead, How It Should Have Ended, Farscape, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Futurama, Game of Thrones, Inglourious Basterds, Great Expectations, Heart of Darkness, Indiana Jones, Inuyasha, Keeping Up Appearances, Lolita, The Lone Ranger, The Marriage of Figaro, Mazes and Monsters, Monkey Island, Monte Python, Naruto, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Pinky and the Brain, Pokémon, Popeye, Ranma ½, Red Dwarf, Robot Chicken, The Simpsons, Snakes on a Plane, South Park, Star Trek, Star Wars, Terminator 2, The Thousand and One Nights, Troll 2, Tomb Raider, Yes Prime Minister, White Chicks, and the works of Edgar Allen Poe, HP Lovecraft, Roald Dahl, Shakespeare, or anyone else.

Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.

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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "Lily's Changes" by arekay.

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 **Chapter 5 – Snuggle Bunnies**

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When humans discuss the things which are to be, the rats laugh in the rafters.

– Old Chinese proverb

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Harry stirred and yawned. The air was chilly and soft gusts of wind were disturbing his rest. Opening his eyes, he spotted a lump of red hair on top of him. Something warm was pressed firmly against his chest. "Mmmmm, it's time to get up, Ginny," he mumbled. "I think we fell asleep on the Quidditch Pitch again …"

The red mass grumbled and snuggled deeper into him. As his eyes gradually adjusted to his surroundings, he could see the grey dawn light on the horizon, coming up over the rolling hills. Wait a minute, how could he see the rolling hills from inside a Quidditch stadium? Looking around, he froze in shock, then bolted upright. The sleeping redhead whined insistently, trying to return to his warmth and to dreamland. Shaking her awake, he realised this was _not_ in fact his girlfriend-from-another-dimension, but a very confused, very sleepy, and very cranky Lily Evans.

"Lily?!"

"Peter!? What are _you_ doing here with me?!" she demanded, rubbing the sleep from her puffy, bruised eyes.

"What I am doing here? What are _you_ doing here with _me_?! And … where are we anyway?"

Ascertaining where they were resulted in a high, girlish scream (concurrent with a lower, more masculine sounding scream from Lily), for you see, dear reader, they were presently ensconced on the highest point of the rooftop of the South Wing of Hogwarts. Which explained the nippy breeze that was making them both nippy (in both senses of the word). More worrying was the fact that neither could remember how they got up there in the first place.

"How in Merlin's name did we get up here!" she said in horror (confirming the accuracy of the previous sentence).

"How in Melin's name did we get ahold of these digs?" Harry wondered. He was for some reason wearing hot-green jodhpurs, a black muggle combat jacket (sans shirt) and a pair of brothel-creeper shoes. "Sweet Freyr, I look campier than a row of army tents!" he exclaimed. Eyeing the beige,-black-and-white checked design on every stitch of clothing of companion was bedecked in, he added, "And you look like the Queen of the Chavs."

"What on earth is a 'chav'?"

"Never mind – the point is, we look like a couple of purebloods dressed to take a brisk constitutional in the muggle world," he said sourly.

"Is that … what is that written on your chest?"

Alarmed, Harry looked down, to confirm that there was indeed writing scrawled on his unimpressive, flabby, pale chest, in some deep-garnet-coloured ink. _'Slave To Nothing But Lily Evans And The Rhythm.'_

"What does _that_ mean?"

"I'm more concerned with the fact that it's written in _my_ lipstick," Lily countered, testing the substance by rubbing it between her fingers.

"Urglk," he shivered as she inadvertently rubbed his chilly chest with her icy fingers. "What's the last thing you remember?", as they made their shaky way to the nearest emergency stairwell.

"Um," she scrunched her nose. "We were walking out of the Forbidden Forest, you were bragging about being a lordly high lord and forcing me to silence about everything …"

"Hey! I was not bragging!"

"… then we reached the Shrieking Shack, and you showed me the tunnel back to Hogwarts," she continued unfazed by his objection. "That's … that's all I can remember. You?"

"About the same," the frowning boy replied.

"Do you think it was obliviation? Or the _Imperius_?"

"Possibly the first. The _Imperius_ Curse doesn't work on me, so I'd've known," Harry said.

"Do I even want to know _how_ you know that?"

"A man pretending to be an Auror thought it'd be fun to put me under," the boy replied tightly.

"You certainly lead an interesting life," she muttered, eyeing him dubiously.

"You have no idea. Possession maybe? I've heard of people losing track of time while they were being controlled by a spirit or some other entity."

"Let's go find Professor McGonagall, if anyone could fill us in about what's been going on, it's her."

"I'd prefer the Headmaster. Nobody knows more about dark magic and strange, arcane magics than him. If somebody's done something to us, he'll get to bottom of it."

"Could've been that hooded figure we met in the Forest," Lily growled darkly. "He could've waited until we'd finished and were distracted and then, wham! Nailed us from behind."

They moved as fast as their addled minds could take them down the empty corridors. It was still the crack of dawn, so it seemed they were the only ones up. The first sign that something was amiss was a cluster of streamers hanging from a suit of armour. A bit further down, another suit of armour's helmet had been transfigured into a half-rabbit's head, half chrome-teethed monstrosity.

"What's that?" Lily pointed. On the walls were a series of what looked like the footprints of some animal. Some animal that had run through a puddle of pink paint and then tracked it all through the castle. Except these footprints were enormous – at least as long as her armspan. A bit further on, the pink footprints were joined by green footprints, and then orange and purple ones. The tracks criss-crossed each other over the floors, walls, and even the ceilings. "What kind of thing runs around along the walls and ceilings?" she wondered, craning her head to observe it.

"Nothing I've ever heard of."

They reached the Great Hall, and gasped.

"Your damn Marauder friends have been at it again!" she accused.

Harry shrugged. "Possibly. I don't remember anything being planned. Or carried out."

"But then, _you_ would say that wouldn't you?"

"Or it could be Peeves, ever think of that?"

"I've never heard of Peeves doing anything on this scale."

"Nor Potter," Harry countered.

One end of the Hall was painted a higgledy-piggledy melange of blues and pastels, dominated by the message, in towering, but trembling, letters: ' _The Hare Club For Men'_ and _'Taste The Rainbow and Carealot'_. On the other end, in bold reds were the words ' _I am the Lizard Queen_ ' and ' _All Shall Love Me And Despair_ '. The tables and chairs had been replaced with children's jungle gym equipment and foam castles. On the raised dais where the teachers' table usually stood was a sign that said ' _The Best Seat In The House_ ' and an arrow pointing to Dumbledore's throne. Except the throne was no longer present, instead was a large porcelain toilet standing in its place, which had been polished to a mirror shine. Harry discreetly smoothed down his cowlicks in his reflection.

"Any idea why there's a pond in the middle of the Great Hall? Or why the water is smoking? And the same colour as Felix Felicis?" Lily sniffed. "The fumes smell like aubergines."

"Let's … let's just go to the Headmaster's Office …" Harry offered weakly.

She nodded and they made their way there, gaits more confident (and concerned) now. They still leaned on each other's shoulders for support. Also, they didn't want to be physically apart, not in this silent, bizarre rabbit hole they'd fallen down. Heading down a hallway, more brightly coloured streamers enwrapped the suits of armour, paintings, statues and chandeliers. It looked as if a psychedelic Acromantula had gone wild with its webspinning.

"Curiouser and Curiouser," Harry muttered to himself. "Did someone order a web-slinger?"

"There's another message written here," she scowled. " _'You Don't Have To Be Crazy To Study Here, But It Helps_ '."

"Truer words were never written," Harry uttered sagely.

As they progressed, closer and closer to their destination, the more every hair on his body would stand on end. He was aware of his consciousness expanding outwards, his awareness of the stone under his feet, the cool balls of air he was inhaling, the softness of Lily's crimson tresses as they brushed against his face and neck, the gentle pressure of her hands as she gripped his right arm, the sound of both of their lungs breathing in and out. He could feel the shiver of nervousness increasing as well, a subtle paranoia that drove him to keep looking behind him, in front, above, to the sides, over and over again, eyes darting around rapidly. Suddenly, the paranoia spiked to a new level, and he could feel subtle vibrations. His rodent instincts kicked in.

"My ratty-sense is tingling! We've got incoming!" he snapped. They sprang apart, wands at the ready. "Whatever it is, it feels big, mean and fearsome!", as around the upcoming corner charged … The Beast.

"There it is!" he pointed a trembling finger.

"What, behind the rabbit?"

"It _is_ the rabbit!" he hissed, gripping his chestnut and dragon heartstring wand in a white-knuckled grip, rat-senses screaming at him to flee.

"What?!" Lily stared hard at the tiny white bunny hopping sedately across the far end of the corridor. The creature stopped, looked them over carefully, nose and whiskers twitching, then began snuffling around for scraps amidst the stone blocks that made up the floor. She frowned and relaxed. "You silly sod!" she snapped, jabbing him in the shoulder. "You got me all worked up!"

"That's no ordinary rabbit," Harry insisted, eyes never leaving the Creature. "'Tis the most foul, cruel, and bad-tempered rodent you ever set eyes on …"

"Uh-huh … wait, what's it doing?"

Before their astonished eyes, the tiny mammal began to morph, growing larger and larger, until it was at least double their height and quadruple their combined mass, its fur and skin transfiguring into …

"It's … it's a …" Lily gasped. "A bunny made out of towels and pillows!"

The Creature was indeed a collection of Hogwarts-issued towels, sheets, pillows and pillowcases all stuck together. The Hogwarts logos printed thereon were clearly visible. The haphazard mass of folded and rumbled fabrics made the giant bunny look remarkably similar to an oversized _shar pei_ puppy. Focusing baleful black eyes (made out of bundles of black nylons, by the looks of them) on the pair, the Creature bellowed out a teeth-rattling lion's-roar, belching forth a great torchblast torrent of red flame. Then charged! The two students dived to opposite sides of the corridor, backs against the walls to prevent being taken from behind, forcing the Beast to choose one or the other as a target. It decided to go for Harry first. His panicked _Incendio!_ was neatly dodged, as was his follow-up banishing charm. His panicked bone-breaker hex had absolutely no effect, and then it was on top of him! With a muffled "Shmrug!" the white Bunny swallowed the boy in one gulp.

"Peter!" she screamed, racing towards him, wand raised.

"Gaaaaah! It's hugging me to death!" Harry's voice cried out melodramatically. "Must … resist … so … soft and cuddly!"

She slid to a halt. "You pipeweed-sucking prat! You nearly scared the life outta me!"

"Sorry, sorry," he apologised, voice muffled by the layers of towels. "I _was_ terrified for real – until I realised that these freshly-laundered fluffy towels and pillows were about as solid as warm butter. Now, if they were trying to _smother_ me, that'd be a different story; but they're just rubbing me all over. Feels kinda nice. Warm. Comforting. Guess all the fire-breathing was just for show. I could get used to having one of these Snuggle-bunnies around all the time!"

Lily's gathering tirade was cut short at the sound of another mighty roar, echoing down the hallway from their rear. The heavy tremors of giant footfalls became louder, until another Creature, this one enormous, charged up to them from the opposite direction, towering over the Snuggle-bunny. Its head interfered with the chandeliers, and it needed to hunch to prevent its skull from smacking against the ceiling. Harry struggled to extract himself from the mass of fabric to reach his partner, but it was slow going. Trying to disentangle himself from the layers of towels that kept moving around as the Bunny bounced here and there, was not as straightforward an action as it may sound. The giant, fire-engine-red Tyrannosaurus Rex opened its toothy mouth, threw back its head and gave a powerful "Neigh!" Then, with surprising speed, lunged down and seized Lily in its mighty jaws and bit down.

"Eeeeek!"

"Lily! Are you alright!"

"No, I am not! It's dripping funny-smelling water all over me!" Her face and wand-arm were the only parts of her visible, flailing around outside the T-Rex's teeth. "Its mouth is all scratchy and foam-like! Like it's made out of sponges or something!"

"Don't panic, if you hold perfectly still, it'll kill you slower!"

"Kill me slower!?" she demanded shrilly. "Oh well, I can just bloody well relax now, can't I?"

Harry finally broke free of his super-soft captor and raced towards the action, hurling a bright orange spell at the monster. It hit the great beast full on the broad side (given how huge the thing was, it was hard to miss). The creature writhed and shuddered at the impact. With a terrified neigh, it dropped Lily unceremoniously and bravely turned tail and fled, like a rat deserting a sinking ship.

"Huh," he said, looking at his wand in wonder. "That spell had a lot more power in it than I thought I'd cast with."

Harry helped up a fluoride-smelling Lily from the floor. "What … what spell did you use? That was super-effective!"

"A drying charm." At her surprised look he added, "The thing was full of water, and you said it seemed to be made of sponges. Seemed like the logical thing to fight it with."

"Point," she conceded. She reached up a cast a few drying charms of her own, trying to dry out and disentangle her sodden mop of red curls.

"I think we have just the thing for your situation," Harry announced.

"What's that?" she sighed.

" _Levicorpus!_ "

The redhead shrieked as she shot upwards, upside-down, levitated by one of her ankles, then was hurled at great speed towards the Snuggle-bunny. The Bunny crouched, then leaped towards her, snatching her body dextrously out of the air, swallowing her down.

"Er, sorry about that!" Harry called out apologetically. "I meant to use _Mobilicorpus_ , not _Levicorpus_. Plus my magic's been acting all wonky this morning for some reason."

"I truly hate you," her muffled voice said.

"But you _are_ getting nice and dry now, right?"

The girl deigned not to give him a response. Shrugging, Harry raced towards the Creature himself, and jumped towards it. The Snuggle-bunny snagged him from the air as well, and for a moment he was tumbling, then landed in an ocean of soft fluffiness.

"Mmmmm, so soft," he sighed in rapture. "And smells so nice."

"Get off me, you creep!" his 'cushion' growled.

"Sorry." They rearranged themselves. "Now we are dry, and now we have transport," Harry said in satisfaction, ignoring the glowering redhead. "To Dumbledore we go! Forward, Towelie!"

"That's the worst name ever," Lily grumbled.

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"We've arrived," Lily announced, peeking her head out of the Snuggle-bunny's mouth. In front of them was the stone gargoyle that lead to the Headmaster's inner sanctum. Emblazoned over the opposite wall was another sign: ' _Welcome To Wonderland, Population: Infinity. Don't Want To Go Around Mad People? Too Bad – We're All Mad Here._ '

"I think we've discovered the whereabouts of the Headmaster's throne," observed Harry, nodding towards the golden chair in question. It was stuck to a nearby wall. Sitting on it, perpendicular to the surface of the wall, was a statue of Barnabas the Barmy. Stuck to the wall all around it were what looked to be a horde of paper-mâché trolls in mid-plié.

"When I find out who did all this, they're going to be cooling their heels in detention for the next hundred years," Lily shook her head. "I wonder what they were thinking?"

"A question I would very much like the answer to, Miss Evans," came the tight, grim voice of a very surly Albus Dumbledore. In their distraction, neither had noticed that the gargoyle had moved aside to allow the Headmaster's approach. A brief wave of his wand, and the Snuggle-bunny shivered, shimmered, shuddered, and then collapsed into its component parts. Lily and Harry tumbled ass-over-kettle onto the hard stone floor.

"Oooof!"

"Oh sir, how cruel," Harry said sadly (once he'd regained his bearings), looking in regret at the mortal remains of his once-animate animal friend.

"Fear not, Mr Pettigrew," Dumbledore growled. "There are at least a dozen more such creatures haunting the halls of Hogwarts for you to play with."

Harry immediately perked up at this news. Springing to his feet, he made to race towards the dungeons, only to be frozen and levitated back.

"There will be plenty of time for that later. In the meantime, the two of you will be explaining to me exactly what has been going through your minds for the past day, to inspire such 'pranks of mass destruction'?

"Sir? Are you saying – that _Peter and I_ were the ones who did all this?"

"Of course," Dumbledore said impatiently.

"How can that be!? We've only been awake for less than an hour?!" Lily's confusion and distress bled through into her tone.

The Headmaster frowned. "You don't remember the past 24 hours at all?"

"'Twas not me, 'twas the one-eyed man!" declared Harry, then tried to make another break for it, only to be frozen once more. To Lily's concern, he started shivering and chittering as his eyes darted about wildly.

"I believe we shall make the Infirmary our first stop," Dumbledore declared in turn. "We can begin the interrogation and assignation of punishments there just as easily as here in the hallway. "Fawkes!"

There was a feeble flash of green fire as the Headmaster's faithful friend and long-time familiar of decades appeared in a and perched on his ancient shoulder.

"What happened to Fawkes?" Lily questioned hesitantly. "Was he always purple with pink polka-dots? And doesn't he have … you know, feathers? Is he having a burning day?"

The bird gave a mournful trill, then shot the girl a baleful glare.

" _You_ happened to Fawkes," the Headmaster growled bluntly. "I recall it having to do with a muggle shaver, a can of paint and a hex."

"We did _that_ too?" Lily asked in astonishment, massaging the top of her skull in agitation. "Okay, I'm seriously starting to freak out – this is a madhouse, a madhouse!" Harry patted her back comfortingly. Then began gnawing and worrying at an itch on his arm.

"Fawkes, could I trouble you to transport us to the Infirmary, please?" asked the Headmaster politely. The bird gave him a filthy look, and disappeared in a bang and puff of smoke and chaff that set the trio to coughing fitfully. "Ahem," said Dumbledore, after they had recovered, "I do believe we must ambulate on this occasion."

As they walked through the silent castle, their footsteps echoing eerily, Harry finally plucked up his courage to, in between his sudden bouts of chattering paranoia, ask, "Um, sir? Where's Mr Filch? Usually he and Mrs Norris are always wandering about the hallways after hours."

"Mr Filch and Mrs Norris have been given a week's compassionate leave," the old man said in a tone as flat as Dudley's recorder playing.

"Uh … dare I ask why?"

"It was Madame Valentine's diagnosis that both would benefit from an extended period of rest and quietude. To recover from their many traumas."

"I really don't want to know," Lily groaned. "That poor cat."

"Poor cat?" Harry demanded incredulously. "That thing has been the bane of every student's existence for 40 years! Rumour has it that she's so long-lived because she feeds on the mystic energy of generations of students' pain and suffering."

"Excuse me, Professor," Lily said, ignoring Harry's opinions of certain felines, "but if all this … this," she gestured vaguely, "has been going on for two days or thereabouts, why didn't you and the staff reverse the changes? And why weren't the two of us put into straightjackets, or put in a warded cell or something?"

Dumbledore scowled. "We HAVE been reversing the changes, Miss Evans. Classes had to be cancelled for all of yesterday to allow the Professors and elves the time to scour the castle and clean up everything that had been done to it. What you see now is the result of those efforts."

The two students paled and shared a stunned look. What on earth had the place looked like _before_ this morning?

"And as for your second question," the Headmaster continued, "we could not find you until now. Even I have been unable to locate your presences through the Hogwarts wards. You have both demonstrated most impressive stealth capabilities, so much so that I'm awarding Gryffindor 100 points apiece for such deviousness."

"Really?" asked Lily, hope rising anew from the ashes within her fiery heart.

"Really, Miss Evans," replied the old man firmly. "Which lowers the net number of points I'm deducting from Gryffindor for your abysmal conduct down to 650 points apiece."

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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The two reprobates sat in chastened silence as Madame Valentine ran test after test. "The most obvious assumption would be possession by some sort of spirit, ghost or enchanted artefact," she stated, casting yet another diagnostic charm, "but there's no evidence of that. Also no evidence of memory charms, compulsion charms, mind-altering potions or Legilimency.

"Well, that's just great! This is all your fault, Pettigrew! I don't know how you did it, but it's the only explanation that fits!" declared Lily, reddening in fury. It was hard to tell where her face ended and her hair began.

"And what about their mood swings?" queried the Headmaster. "Miss Evans' temperament shows disturbingly high increases of rage and frustration, while Mr Pettigrew demonstrates ever-greater levels of nervousness and paranoia." He gestured grandly to Harry, who was starting to tremble and shiver again, and to Lily, who was starting to grind her teeth again, eyes almost shooting sparks as she glared flaming death upon he whom she perceived as the progenitor of her current woes. "And they appear to be getting worse with time."

"What the hell is going on!?," bellowed Lily to the sculptured bust of Galen mounted above the door. Somebody tell me right now or so help me Buddha I'll start cursing everything in sig–" Using her ranting as a distraction, Harry made another blindingly-fast bid for freedom … which was thwarted as he bounced off the ward Dumbledore had erected around the Infirmary. Again. He quickly righted himself and began scheming frantically for another way out.

"Physically they're fine," Madame Valentine said slowly, "but their magic is completely out of harmony, and that's what's driving the mood swings and other irrational behaviour. And their magical signatures seem to be affecting the other to a significant degree. A sort of _folie á deux_."

The old man's brows furrowed in concern. "And the cause?"

"Instability in their magical cores."

The ancient wizard paled.

"I _knew_ this was your doing!" Lily snarled viciously, jabbing her finger like a wand at Pettigrew. "It was that Thor-damned ritual we did last night – you screwed it up, somehow!"

"Ritual?" the mediwitch demanded. "You two have been performing rituals together?" At their nods, she hurried away to her office and returned with a stack of medical reference books. "All right young man and young woman," she said sternly. "You are going to tell me _everything_ you know about this rite. And then I'll find a way to stabilise your cores. Settle in, you'll be residing in the Hospital Wing until you've regained control over yourselves; that may be for some time."

Dumbledore sighed (though whether in relief or exasperation was hard to tell).

Madame Valentine grumbled as she leafed through her texts.

Lily fumed.

Harry chittered.

The stair stared.

The box boxed.

The drain drained.

Their thoughts thought.

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"Well well well, if it isn't Peter Rabbit and Tyrannosaurus Lils" Sirius announced, as the Marauders burst into the Infirmary with all the grace, subtly and tact of a crash of particularly indelicate and thoughtless rhinos.

"Are you two alright?" asked James, his eyes flicking in concern between the two inhabitants inhabiting side-by-side beds next to the windows.

"Fine, thanks," said Lily tiredly, the hours of all-consuming rage had worn the girl out. She nibbled on a polished apple that Mary had brought her earlier. Her best friend's not-so-subtle implication was not lost on the budding genius. "They were able to figure out what went wrong with our cores and stabilised them. We're just recovering from a touch of magical exhaustion. Madame Valentine says we'll be right as rain by tomorrow night."

"Thank Merlin," James sighed in relief. Then stiffened as he noticed something ... "Hey Wormtail, what happened to your eyes?"

Pettigrew grumbled something under his breath and turned away, looking out the window. James was not deterred, stepping forward briskly and taking Peter's face in his hands, he gently brought it around to face him. And gasped in surprise. Looking back at him were two deep, piercing emerald orbs. He recognised the shade instantly. It was the exact same colour as a certain redhead with whom he was besotted, the same colour his infatuation had picked up as one of the first things about her to fix in his memory.

"What? How …?"

Lily shrugged indifferently. Peter looked uncomfortable. "Madame Valentine didn't know," he mumbled, squirming uncomfortably in his bed under the incredulous gaze of his three friends.

Padfoot was the first to recover, as usual. "Yes, well, whatever it was that did that, it at least didn't do any harm, right?"

"No, my vision's even gotten a bit better." It hadn't improved as much as it had after he achieved the animagus transformation, but it was still noticeable. According to Orion, the effects of the runes that were now embedded in his and Lily's cores would start to affect them slowly over time, gradually enhancing, speed, sight, sense of spell, resistance to magical attack, and so forth. The eye-colour change was certainly a surprise though; on balance, Harry couldn't say he was displeased to have his original eyes back, sans the crippling farsightedness, of course. At the very edges of his hearing, he could swear that he'd started hearing little whispers. Not like the chillingly slow hisses of snakes or basilisks, but light and rapid as they bounced information to and fro at lightning speed. Little chitters and squeaks and chirps all around him. He wondered if the ritual had enhanced his rat-like characteristics, or whether his mind and magic were finally easing into the full flow-on effects of Pettigrew's animagus form. Somebody had told him once (who and when he'd forgotten) that the reason the old Pettigrew had been able to locate the shade of Voldemort in the first place, setting the whole cavalcade of the second blood war into motion, was because the rats and mice had told him where he and Nagini were. Harry pondered whether he could talk to them as well – what did one call the magical ability to speak to rats and mice? Mustongue? Antechinusmouth? Rattongue? Mousemouth? No, those all sounded lame.

"Anyway, we came to congratulate you both for successfully shutting the entire school down for an entire day!" Prongs proclaimed, near to bursting with pride. "That hasn't happened because of a student's behaviour since 1786, when Edie Widder somehow permanently transfigured herself into the Giant Squid that we all know and love today! I looked it up!"

"And I keep telling you that book's full of shite!" argued Padfoot. "Everyone knows that the Giant Squid is actually Godric Gryffindor, the world's oldest and largest animagus. Legend says that on the eleventh hour of every evening, the Squid rises from the Black Lake and transforms into Godric, who wanders Hogwarts with the ghosts until dawn! That's why you never see the Squid after dark!"

"Pshaw!" James snorted in contempt. "You never the Giant Squid after dark because it's dark! And the Black Lake is so black that it's impossible to see _anything_ in its murky depths even in the middle of the daytime! What kind of knut-store paperback trash-novel would spread such hippogriff shite?"

" _Hogwarts: A History_ ," commented Remus.

"You lie!"

"That's the most diligence I've ever seen either of you two clowns put into researching _any_ subject that wasn't Quidditch, pranking or Transfiguration," Lily noted in wonder. "But your newfound studiousness aside, this is nothing to be celebrated! I've already lost almost two whole days of classes, and I'm looking set to lose another! And to make matters worse, the entire school had to suffer their loss as well!"

"Are you insane?" Padfoot demanded, horrified. "I suppose another day spent memorising potions reaction tables would be better time spent than the noble art of pranking, is that what you're saying?"

"Of course it's what I'm saying," she said matter-of-factly, with the air that she was the poor unfortunate soul burdened with the dread task of explaining the self-evident to every lackwit she encountered. Padfoot shook his head in pity at such a lost cause.

"Well, you needn't worry," James tried to reassure the girl of his dreams. "Classes resumed today for the most part, and they'll be fully up and running by the time you're out of this antiseptic hellhole. Then we'll all be back to the usual rat race, the endless hamster-wheel of classes and assignments and tests ..." He sighed sadly.

"It's a real tragedy." Harry mused philosophically, "Schools are not supposed to be exam factories for the rat race. What's the point? O or T student, you still end up as this rat in the British Maze, working your way towards the cheese; a job, a career, gold, power, women, whatever. Makes you wonder what the objective of it all is?"

"What's that, Wormy?"

"Just a couple of sayings."

"By whom?"

"Some muggles. I forget."

"Figures. That aside, I've brought you a present/reward for all your hard work in managing mischief and causing chaos! But next time, don't cut us out of the fun, alright mate?"

"Sure, no problem," Harry said. "By which I mean to say," he amended hastily as he remembered who was lying next to him, "I think I'm all pranked out for the year. Possibly next school year as well, yeah." He seized the book James had left on his bedside table and began flicking through it. "What is this?"

"It's a book written by my beloved great-grand-aunt Beatrix," James explained grandly. "She was a Squib who made it big writing stories for muggles. Became extremely famous I'm told, Merlin rest her dearly-departed magicless soul."

"' _The Tale of Peter Rabbit_ ','' Harry read out loud.

James smiled. "It seemed appropriate."

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Harry stared out of the window while Lily fiddled with her Potions notes.

Harry twirled his wand between his fingers. Lily began reading her Charms Master book.

Harry started tapping his wand on his bedside table. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Lily gritted her teeth but said nothing.

Eventually noticing the glares she was directing his way, Harry sheepishly put his wand away on the side desk.

Stared out the window. Stared at Lily until she glared at him and silently demanded he find something else to do with his time. Stared at his textbooks, which he had no desire to read. Stared at his wand. Stared at his secret second-hand wand he'd bought from B&BBBB in Knockturn Alley, wondering when Snidely Whizzpopper would send his first delivery of Harry's untraceable, and apparently non-power-limiter-including and lots-of-runes-including, wands.

Stared at the ceiling. Stared at his sheet. Stared at his bedside mirror. Merlin, how he despised that ugly mug that stared back at him so smugly. As if defying him to do anything about it. Defying him to defy his role as the Eternal Bitch of Fate, Space and Time. His now-viridian eyes widened as inspiration struck. There _was_ something he could do about one aspect of that idiotic, traitorous, cowardly, parent-betraying sack of sallow snake skin Peter Pettigrew. Not to mention traitorous and betraying.

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"I cannot over-emphasise how strongly I recommend you not do this," Lily said firmly. For the eighth time.

"Duly noted," Harry said absently as he consulted his textbook one more time, running over the correct wand movements and pronunciation over and over in his mind. It seemed simple enough. Hell, if the stupid ferret could manage it on the fly, it couldn't be any harder than a simple _Lumos_.

"This isn't necessary – it's not so bad," she said lamely, trying a different tack.

"Not so bad?! I can open beer bottles with my overbite!"

"At least wait for Madame Valentine to come back; I'm sure she'd do it for you if you asked her."

"No she won't," Harry shook his head with absolute certainly. "I know mediwitches, they're all alike. Just tut-tut and click their tongues and tell you that you should be happy with what Nature and Magic gave you, that they're not using scarce school resources to satisfy students' vanity, that if you want cosmetic magic go to St Mungos or any of the cut-rate dodgy 'specialists' that infest Knockturn and Diagon. If there's one thing I've learned in all my years of residing in the Hospital Wing, is that if you want a mediwitch to do something that you actually want her to do, you have to force her hand!" So saying he lifted his wand, carefully angled it to make sure it was properly aligned with his teeth, and summoned up his recovering magic.

"But what if she doesn't get here in time to fix you up!" Lily protested.

"She will. Mediwitches are like the Devil. Speak their names and they shall appear."

"I really think you should reconsid–"

 _Ah, maybe Lily's right, Harry, the Otter gnawed her lip nervously. At the very least, make some preparations to mitigate possible worst-case scenarios in the event of –"_

" _Densaugeo!_ "

He immediately realised he'd miscalculated when his front teeth, indeed his entire overbite and jaw burst into flaring, fiery pain. His magic was apparently still wonky and excessively overpowered, as every tooth in his mouth began to grow rapidly, in all sorts of different and non-linear directions; and his entire jawbone as well!

"Matham Barrentie! Mathem Barrentie!" he called desperately, teeth getting in the way of his tongue and mercilessly mangling the Muggle Queen's English. Seeing the clock in the corner of his eye, he mentally kicked himself for being so stupid as to try out 'Project Hermione' right in the middle of lunch, when the mediwitch would be with all the rest of her colleagues, enjoying whatever spread the Hogwarts house elves had prepared. Pain from his bones mingled with new pain from his limps and gums, which started to tear and bleed as his teeth and jaw grew too large and unwieldy for his flesh.

Tumbling out of his bed, he weaved crazily through the hallways, banging into the walls as he went, before racing out into the Great Hall, where he howled at the top of his lungs, then collapsed in agony before a startled Madame Valentine, while the entire student population watched on in sympathy. So much sympathy, in fact, that only half of them howled with derisive laughter.

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	8. 6 The Truth Comes Out, or Close Enough

**Author's Note:**

This is a continuation/soft reboot of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse, with a bunch of changes. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" by Rorschach's Blot. Both are used with the permission of their original authors. The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter, Alice in Wonderland, Anchorman, Austin Powers, Avatar: the Last Airbender, Blackadder, The Barber of Seville, the Bible, Discworld, Dragonball Z, Evil Dead, How It Should Have Ended, Farscape, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Futurama, Game of Thrones, Inglourious Basterds, Great Expectations, Heart of Darkness, Indiana Jones, Inuyasha, Keeping Up Appearances, Lolita, The Lone Ranger, The Marriage of Figaro, Mazes and Monsters, Monkey Island, Monte Python, Naruto, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Pinky and the Brain, Pokémon, Popeye, Ranma ½, Red Dwarf, Robot Chicken, The Simpsons, Snakes on a Plane, South Park, Star Trek, Star Wars, Terminator 2, The Thousand and One Nights, Troll 2, Tomb Raider, Yes Prime Minister, White Chicks, and the works of Edgar Allen Poe, HP Lovecraft, Roald Dahl, Shakespeare, or anyone else.

Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.

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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "What's a Little Death Between Friends?" by kathryn518.

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 **Chapter 6 – The Truth Comes Out, or Close Enough for Government Work**

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That was when they recognized love: this torture on seeing someone, the greater torture when they were out of sight. In short, a torture without end.

– _The Tin Flute_

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Confusion and amusement were warring for dominance within Sirius Black's febrile brain.

Being dragged from his dorm by his thin-lipped Head of House to the Headmaster's Office was not an unusual enough occurrence to warrant much attention. Nor was the fact that the other Marauders were also present. Nor was the cause of their meeting. Frankly, he was surprised that they hadn't been brought up on charges sooner, thanks to Wormtail and Lily's little rampage across Hogwarts. Padfoot had to hand it to the little vermin: it was certainly an impressive feat to prank the entire school in one night. But to somehow convince the staid and stolid Head Girl to join him – and to unleash such chaos openly! Openly defying anyone to stop them or punish them … that was a thing of true audacity, and thus a thing of rare beauty. He just wished that he'd been let in on it. He was an expert in making a disgrace of himself!

Pettigrew was being threatened with hundreds of further points losses and detention until he graduated. A threat that didn't cow the rodent in the slightest. Of course it didn't. He may have been their smallest, weakest, most cowardly, most unintelligent, most uninitiative-having member, but he was a still a Marauder. And Marauders could shrug off punishments like normal wizards shrugged off crippling injuries. Now they were talking about possible expulsion, an even more preposterous proposition. If Wendelin the Weird and Dagfroth the Destroyer could matriculate from Hogwarts without expulsion, there was no way a mere prankster couldn't!

Now they were talking about taking away Evans' badge and bumping her down to being one of the peons like the rest of them. He snorted to himself, as if that were in any way a credible threat. There wasn't a girl in the castle more qualified to be Head Girl than Lily Evans – the very fact that she'd beaten out not only a host of candidates a year older than her, and in their final year of Hogwarts no less, but also bucked over a thousand years of tradition by becoming the first muggleborn Head Girl Hogwarts had ever seen, was proof enough of that. And all at the tender age of 16 to boot!

There was no way the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress and all of their Progressive confederates on the Board of Governors and the Wizengamot would ever strip the first muggleborn Head Girl of her headship in abject disgrace, it would give their faction a hell of a black eye and provide their enemies with ammunition, especially in these fraught times where every faction was angling for any advantage in every arena. Perhaps more importantly, it would make them a laughingstock to the rest of the wizarding world. Firing a Head Girl for pranking people? For participating in a noble tradition as old as the stones of Hogwarts themselves? Riddikulus. Lily was putting on a pretty good show though, caterwauling as if her life were ending. Not a bad performance, Sirius thought, though too melodramatic and overblown to be truly convincing. He made a mental note to offer some pointers at the next opportunity.

It was at this point that things started to get interesting.

The Headmaster revealed that he'd been contacted by his dear friends and allies Fleamont and Euphemia Potter about some seriously concerning problems in their House. This caused James to perk up in interest. It seemed he would finally discover the details behind that vague, maddening letter he'd received from his father a week ago. A short Floo call later, and James' parents were present, along with Uncle Charlus and Aunt Dorea. Sirius bounded over to give his de facto parents and aunt and uncle fierce, joyful hugs.

When everyone was settled again, Dumbledore revealed his extensive searches amongst the Wizengamot and Ministry records, and what they had revealed. Namely that, through circumstances unknown, the Headship of House Potter had shifted a week or so ago, from Fleamont to an unexpected and improbable party.

"Perhaps you'd like to take up the narrative at this point, Mr Pettigrew?" the Headmaster asked him benevolently, eyes twinkling.

Pettigrew sighed and without a word, stood and held out his right hand. To Sirius' shock, the Black Ring and the Potter Ring appeared on his fingers! This had to be a prank, it just wasn't possible for an unrelated stranger to snatch control of Houses from blood heirs! From the tumult it was clear his reaction was not exceptional. It took a long time for the cacophony to die down. Padfoot merely sat in his seat, trying to absorb the implications. This could be huge! Prongs simply stared in a dazed silence, jaw hanging open.

"Well, so much for keeping things a secret," Peter sighed. Then explained how on the Hogwarts Express he'd somehow received an influx of memories from someone he believed lived some 20 years or so in the future, the impact of such a sudden influx precipitating his prayers at the porcelain altar, where he was discovered by the others. The memories were of a person who was the Heir of both the Potter and the Black lines. The person and his friends had (for some reason unknown to him) undertaken a bizarre time ritual that has sent his memories back in time to him. Peter was under the impression that the identity of the recipient was a mistake, since the memories were scattered at best, unrelated to him and his life, and seemed to contain no instructions.

When Peter recovered from the pwnage, he discovered (to his amazement) the Potter and Black rings on his fingers. No, he had no idea how he'd become the Lords of both Houses. No, he had no idea how to reverse it. Now that Sirius thought about it, Pettigrew had been acting very strange that whole train trip, and that night at the Feast. And he'd been especially eager to go running off at the first opportunity. Weird as it was, things were starting to make more sense (in the most convoluted way possible).

"Well," said Charlus finally, after sharing a long discussion with the other four Potters behind a privacy charm," that is certainly an intriguing story, young man. However, we must insist that, however you might have obtained it, you restore the Lordship of House Potter back to a blood relative immediately."

Peter nodded so vigorously Sirius wondered if his head would bobble off. "Naturally," he said. "I never had any intention of taking anything away from you. Your nephew and your relatives have always been very kind to me, Sirius and Remus. If there's some way to transfer the ring to you, I'm happy to do it."

"Glad to hear it, my boy," Charlus replied with a touch of relief. He must've been designated the spokesman for the rest of them. James still looked furious that his lackey had usurped him in his own House. He kept casting Peter baleful glares. Pettigrew squirmed uncomfortably under their heat.

"So, what do I have to do?"

That stumped everyone. After much hemming and hawing, Dumbledore eventually announced that he would look into it, and advised Fleamont that he engage the Potters' attorneys to do likewise. In the meantime, Peter could formally designate one of them his proxy for the House of Potter, and task them with running the House.

"So will that be you, Mr Charlus? Or Mr Fleamont?" Harry asked politely.

"Certainly not," interjected Aunt Dorea. "It shall be me, young Pettigrew – the men have made quite enough of a hash of our House's business, it's time somebody competent took the reins." She cast a gimlet eye at the others. The three male Potters looked as if they wished to rise in defence of their gender and the past management of the House, but clearly none had the courage to stand up to the redoubtable matriarch.

"Excellent," said Peter happily, completely oblivious to these undercurrents of family politics. "Then it's settled. I will make Dorea Potter-Black the proxy for Potter house, and sign a legal transfer that will take effect on James' 17th birthday. On that day, I will formally renounce my Headship and pass the ring on to him as my Heir. I understand Lords can pass on their titles to the next generation while still living?" he asked the Chief Warlock. Dumbledore nodded. "Done," Peter stated, with uncharacteristic decisiveness. "In the meantime, you can run House Potter however you wish without any interference from me. Good enough?" Charlus and Dorea nodded in satisfaction. James was still glowering.

He turned to look at Sirius. "Padfoot, I'm going to hang on to the Black Ring until you turn 17. Before then, I have a few ideas about how to deal with your 'loving' family." His thin lips stretched into an evil smile. "I've already started cleaning things up."

"By doing what?" Sirius demanded suspiciously.

"Whoa, mate, take it easy! It's not like I'm going to kill them. Though, knowing the Black family, after I'm done with them, they'll _wish_ they were dead. And you want to talk about parents wanting their children dead — chances are Orion and Walburga will have a hit out on my head before the night's end."

"Point," Sirius conceded.

"What did I do? Let's see: I put the fear of Merlin into your parents, locked up the family vaults and reinstated you, Andromeda and her kid into the Black family as full members. Oh, and you're the Black Heir again. I've set up a special vault for you at Gringotts so you can keep living in style." He tossed Sirius a gold vault key. Grinning at Padfoot's speechless state, Peter continued, "But that's only the overture. You haven't seen my opening act yet!"

"Do tell," urged Dumbledore, whose posture and gleaming eyes betrayed his thorough enjoyment of the proceedings.

Peter put on his most innocent expression. "The House of Black, darkest of the dark families, is going to get dragged, kicking and screaming into both the 20th century and into the heart of the Light faction." Sirius' eyes widened. The room was filled with gasps at the audacity.

"Impossible! … They'll never stand for it! … Have you put into a box for worm-food before they'd agree …" and similar watermelon-watermelon sound effects in the background.

Peter replied flippantly, "If they don't like it, then in short order the entire House of Black will comprise only myself, Sirius, Andromeda and Nymphadora. Maybe Regulus too. We'll see how _they_ enjoy being blasted off the family tapestry and left disinherited and penniless." His words were light, but laced with steel. A fierce joy in his eyes.

Sirius couldn't help it. A deep guffaw broke free of his throat. Before he knew it, he was sprawled out on the rich carpet of the Headmaster's office, howling in mirth, so hard he was worried he'd cough up a lung or split a gall bladder. Peter laughed along with him.

"You do realise, dear boy," Dumbledore intoned solemnly, "that this would be a major political earthquake? You may well become a marked man for such a radical realignment. There would be no shortage of parties who would want you dead for it."

"Story of my life," he shrugged. And didn't _that_ just beg a whole lot of questions! Peter looked at Aunt Dorea. "Madame Potter-Black, would it be possible for you to call a meeting of all the Wizengamot representatives who are aligned with the Light? There's no rush, whenever it's most convenient. I presume a formal alliance would need some sort of magical treaty to be agreed and signed?" he asked respectfully. She nodded, still speechless. "Good. Then I will instruct my new proxy for House Black to contact you and make arrangements for such an alliance."

"I am quite sure that the Light families will be falling over themselves in their anxiousness to be a part of your project," the grand lady remarked.

Dumbledore coughed delicately. "There is still one other, major issue regarding the House of Black which stands unaddressed. That is the matter of your marriage."

"Marriage?" asked Peter, forehead crinkling and nose twitching in a very mousy manner. "What do mean? Don't tell me there's some outstanding betrothal contract that mandates Lord Black marry some woman or creature and I'm the first person in however long that meets the criteria?"

The Headmaster's eyes twinkled in silent laughter. "Nothing so dramatic, I assure you. I am referring to this." He produced an ancient, greying parchment, almost as large as his desk ( _where on earth has he been hiding that?_ Padfoot speculated). The Great Seal of the Wizengamot embossed in the centre. Sirius smirked to himself: even the illustrious Leader of the Light wasn't above filching things from his place of work whenever he felt the urge.

A parchment that replicated the information on the Black Family Tapestry. At the bottom, in golden script (to indicate the current Lord), was the name 'Peter Pettigrew-Black'. A black line linked him to Sirius Black, implying that Peter was his son, of all things. There were no other lines linking it to any other name of a Black family member. Of far greater interest however, was that Pettigrew's golden name was linked by a horizontal bar to a name gilt in silver (to indicate the current Lady): Lily Evans-Black.

Pandemonium erupted once more. Lily was bellowing something, Merlin, that girl had a set of lungs on her when fired up. After plenty of yakking, insults, accusations and hurried explanations, it eventually came out that Peter and Lily had snuck off to the Forbidden Forest the night before to do some weird secret ritual that only the Head of House Black knew about. And that they refused to elaborate on. Which was why they'd gone crazy yesterday and the day before, their cores had been out of balance or something.

Dumbledore drew on his vast knowledge of tedious detail to deduce that, by jointly doing a ritual that was only intended to be undertaken by the sole Lord of Black, they had somehow become magically linked. Some complicated rot about being married according to magic but not in any legal sense of the word, or some such, Sirius had stopped listening by that point.

"My dear girl," Dumbledore asserted, "the fastest and most effective way to test our theory is to summon the Blacks' house elf. If it comes to you when called, that would be strong evidence in its favour."

"Uh, Black family house elf, come to me?" she called. With a pop, the surly elf was there.

"Unworthy mudblood bitch of a mistress wishes Kreacher?" he spat hatefully. Numbly she shook her head, and he disappeared again with a contemptuous sniff.

"Most interesting," the Headmaster mused. "Now, if you would be so kind Miss Evans, try to summon the ring of Lady Black? Just concentrate on it appearing on your finger."

Lily obliged. After a minute or two of furious concentration, there was a flash, and a silver ring adorned her ring finger.

"So does this mean we're married?" she asked sickly.

"Only in the eyes of Magic, child," Dumbledore comforted her. "Not legally. You can still marry somebody else under the law, and you will still have to register it with the Ministry and muggle authorities like normal."

"You said 'in the eyes of Magic' – so we're like soulmates or something?"

"Of course not," scoffed Professor McGonagall. "What a ridiculous notion, Miss Evans; you've been reading far too many muggle romance storybooks. Having a magical bond with someone isn't the same thing as merging your soul – a witch or wizard has a magical bond with _anyone_ they have signed a magical contract with, for example. You are not compelled to do anything, in your case." Lily sighed in relief. Her Head of House patted her shoulder comfortingly.

Charlus was chortling to himself. "A muggleborn Lady Black! My, won't Orion be displeased! This'd almost be worth turning up to Wizengamot meetings, just to hear the old windbag huff and puff."

James (sadly, but entirely predictably) did not take the news well. "I can't believe it, Peter!" he bellowed. "I just can't believe it! How could you? First you steal my inheritance, and now you steal my bride? Just how low can you sink to take what's mine? What about your oath, you backstabbing, cowardly, thieving, dirty, double-crossing rat!?"

Pettigrew shrank against the full force of James' belligerence. But Lily, unfortunately, brilliant witch that she was, latched onto the most important word in that boiling sentence-stew.

"What oath are you talking about, Potter?"

Their bespectacled friend froze, suddenly realising that he'd said too much. "Just a turn of phrase, Evans. Nothing to worry about," he simpered smoothly.

"What. Oath.?" she growled through clenched teeth.

"James made the Marauders swear a wizarding oath on their magic that they'd never kiss you or date you or do anything else of that sort," interjected Remus. Prongs threw him a betrayed look. Ratted out by a fellow Marauder! Moony was unfazed. "The cat's out of the bag, Prongs. Sorry. There's no point in pretending now. It's best if it all comes out tonight."

"And what," Lily asked sweetly, "pray tell, does 'it all' refer to?"

Remus heaved a regretful sigh. "We were a bunch of thirdies, we didn't know better. Nobody had a clue how serious magical oaths are. The three of us thought girls were icky, and so we didn't have a problem with James demanding we swear that oath or he'd stop being friends with us." Euphemia shot a disappointed glare at her son, who cringed.

"Go on," said Lily mildly.

"If the Gryffindor Quidditch team wanted James to play Chaser, they all had to swear that oath too, otherwise he threatened to quit the team forever. If a student wanted his help tutoring, they had to swear the oath. Same if a student wanted to borrow his broom. Or wanted him to smuggle in contraband for them. Or to prank someone else. Or to help them brew love potions. Or to give them an alibi. Or to stay at his house over the holidays. Or to get him to stay at their house over the holidays. Or to teach them an unusual spell. Or to use one of his quills. Or to save them a desk. Or to help them carry something. Or to open the Fat Lady to let them into the common room. Or to open a door for them. Or to give them directions. Or to pick up an object they'd dropped. Or to … well, you get the idea," Remus finished lamely.

"How many …?" she choked.

"Have to be at least half the castle," Remus responded sheepishly. "I'm pretty sure it was only males though. Girls had to give him candies or gossip about you, and such. So at least the entire female population is in the clear …" This did not appear to mollify the Head Girl.

Sirius winced. When it all got added together like that, it did sound awfully over-the-top.

Lily's face had become increasingly white over the course of Moony's explanation, except for a single bright red spot in the middle of each cheek. At the end, she wordlessly got up and walked with deliberate purpose to the opposite side of the office. With a swish of her wand, a silencing charm was raised, and Lily began to pace back and forth, gesticulating on occasion, as she silently ranted. Professor McGonagall looked torn between wanting to comfort her favourite student, and tear strips out of her former-favourite student.

Eventually Lily calmed. Ceasing her furious pacing, she cancelled the silencing charm and returned to the group. She had a rather terrifying grin on her face. "So you like magical oaths, do you Potter?" she said, in a slow, deliberate, deadly cadence that could kill a man at 50 paces. "Well, I have an oath for you: I, Lily Evans, do hereby swear on my magic that I shall never kiss, hug, date, be intimate with, marry or otherwise have any romantic relations with James Potter so long as I shall live – so mote it be!"

The tell-tale flash of light and silent blast of power indicated to all that the magically binding oath had taken effect. James looked as if someone had punched him in the gut with the shards of his own racing broom.

Peter was muttering to himself. Sirius' sharp canine-enhanced ears managed to catch, 'started dating later on … Head Boy and Girl … once he deflated his head some … miscalculation … stupidstupidstupid!'

"Hang on a sec," James protested, "I just thought of something: since Peter took the oath, how is it possible that they're magically married?" He said that last with infinite distaste.

The Chief Warlock polished his monocle and chuckled. "Ah, the vicissitudes of youth. Mr Potter, a magical oath based on the feeble power of a third year student would not hold a candle to an ancient familial rite of marriage enacted by a Lord of an Ancient and Noble House. Any contradictory oaths, especially with such weak magical force behind them, would be easily superseded."

"Dragon dung," James deflated again.

"Language!" Euphemia scolded.

"You keep saying you have memories of 'someone' who lived 20 years from now. Yet you speak in vague generalities. Who was this person?" queried Fleamont out of the blue, in his calm, steady cadence.

Peter winced, as if he really didn't want to answer that question and had been hoping that nobody would think to ask. But looking around, he seemed to realise that no one in the room was going to let him off the hook. So he sighed, slumped back into his chair, and bit the bullet.

"Harry James Potter, only son of James Potter and Lily Potter-Evans," he admitted miserably.

Another shocked silence. Sirius felt like he was watching one of those muggle Mexican soap-operas. This had all the same sort of twists and turns and astounding developments to keep the viewer on the edge of their seat. Pity there were no surprise pregnancies (yet), or mysterious doppelgangers, or faked deaths, or people coming back from the dead. All he needed was the popcorn. With caramel and butter. Mmmm aaargghhh. He wondered if there was some way to convince the Hogwarts elves to bring some to him without alerting the others. Or if he could sneak out to the kitchens and back undetected.

"YES!" James cheered, the most animated he'd been the whole evening. He jumped out of his seat and began vigorously performing his happy dance (complete with the lewd pelvic thrusting that Sirius had taught him). "I knew it! I KNEW we were destined to be soulmates, Evans! Our love has had to endure your constant hatred, but this just proves it survives and flourishes in the end regardless! It's destiny! Thankyou Fate, you wonderful, gorgeous goddess!"

Sirius applauded Prongs' dance number enthusiastically.

"Ah yeah, about that," Peter muttered in embarrassment at his kinda-father's behaviour, "that may not happen anymore; what with Lily's magical oath and all."

The Head Girl, who'd been cringing at the obscene display her would-be husband was presenting to the room, immediately perked up. "Hey, you're right – I'm saved!" she cheered.

"Oh yeah," James immediately deflated. "That damn oath. Merlin Lily, why did you do that? Stop testing our love!" he whined plaintively. Lily responded by standing up and very deliberately performing her own happy dance. Though hers was much more slow and ballet-like.

"So you know what's going to happen to all of us?" asked Euphemia curiously. While the children's histrionics were always entertaining to watch, there were important considerations to importantly consider.

"Oh heavens no! This 'Harry Potter' person lived 20 years from now, and was never taught anything about this period of time. Apparently Binns is just as effective a history teacher in the future as he is now." – Sirius could not prevent a snigger from escaping his lips – "Nor did he show much interest in learning about our bit of history for himself. His knowledge of everyone in this room is extremely limited. I don't think he even knew your first names, Mr and Mrs Potter. And I very much doubt that his 'past' had a Peter Pettigrew who got messages from the future! I'm sure my behaviour since the start of term has been dramatically different from what the ordinary Peter would've done, as a result of these memories."

"No kidding, mate," Sirius agreed. It was almost as if his friend was a completely different person. A much more decisive and charismatic person. One that the Great Sirius Orion Black (the Great S.O.B.) might even deign to take notes off of.

"So there you have it," Peter concluded. "The timeline is now different from what he knew, so any knowledge he had is superseded by new events." Euphemia and Fleamont looked vaguely disappointed by this. "Lily's behaviour is just one example."

"Hey!" she objected, irritated at being singled out. "I take exception to that! I'm a rational and logical individual." Sirius thought she sounded fairly believable; she might even believe it.

"Peter," Remus piped up nervously, "Why didn't you tell us you have some memories of the future? Why keep it a secret? I mean, think of how useful they would be."

Pettigrew looked at his fellow Marauder as if he were mad. "Tell people? Are you nuts, Moony? If word got around that I know stuff from the future, I can guarantee you three things will occur: (1) people would swarm to me demanding to know their futures, like a bloody fortune-teller! (2) Whenever anything bad happens, people will immediately blame me for not telling them about it, or preventing it. Even if it were something my other self didn't know and would have no conceivable way of finding out! Humans are irrational beasts at the best of times. And (3) Voldie would find out and send the Death Munchers to kidnap me and wring every scrap of information out of my brain using whatever tortures they could imagine in their sick and twisted minds."

Remus, Lily and Professor McGonagall paled noticeably at the thought.

"And of course," he added, "there's that whole 'his information is now useless' thing."

"You gotta admit, this all sounds awfully far-fetched," commented Remus reasonably.

"I understand that it sounds like a wild story," Peter admitted. "But there are a couple of things I can do to corroborate it. With your permission, Headmaster?" At Dumbledore's nod, he called, "Kreacher!" And with a pop, the bane of Sirius' childhood appeared in the office. Padfoot shook his head. His lingering doubts that this was all the second part of Wormtail's extremely elaborate prank of the century, finally dissipated. There was no way Kreacher would ever follow the orders of a 'stinking' halfblood, especially one who wasn't part of the family. Only Lord Black could command the House's house elf.

"Go to the 'Come and Go Room' here at Hogwarts. If you don't know where it is, ask the Hogwarts elves. When you're there, go into the 'Room of Forgotten Things'. Find the diadem sitting on top of a bust, it looks something like this." He grabbed a parchment and quill of the Headmaster's desk, not even bothering to ask permission, and quickly scrawled a crude picture and gave it to the elf. "It reeks of dark magic. Fetch it and bring it here at once. Do not go anywhere else, do not do anything else until this task is completed. You are forbidden to speak of anything that's happened today to anyone, human, elf, painting, ghost, recording device, or anything. Go now!"

Peter forestalled their questions until a grumbling Kreacher returned. The elf was gone for less than 15 minutes. He reappeared holding a gleaming silver diadem encrusted with diamonds and sapphires. Looked like one of the headpieces the Ladies Malfoy were rumoured to wear to Royal Balls in days gone by. Harry levitated it over to the Headmaster.

"The Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw," Professor McGonagall breathed in awe. She and Lily approached the artefact and examined it with something akin to religious veneration.

Dumbledore had his wand out and was casting diagnostic charms furiously. Abruptly he ordered, "Nobody touch it!" The room froze. This was not his usual easy-going, genial, half-wit tone of voice, but a sharp, implacable word of command from the Leader of the Light. Lily, who had been about to reach out to caress the cool metal, withdrew her hand as if it'd been burned. Very slowly and deliberately, Dumbledore cast a range of other spells, brow becoming increasingly thunderous. An ominous silence fell as the rest of the party held their breath.

"Albus, what is it?" McGonagall was getting visibly agitated at his uncharacteristic behaviour.

"A most foul and horrible act," he whispered. And then to his second-in-command, and the rest of the company, "Something that is highly classified and cannot under any circumstances be disclosed to unauthorised parties. I am sorry, my friends, but it cannot be avoided." The Headmaster's head swivelled slowly to look at Pettigrew, who met his eyes unflinchingly. They appeared to have a silent conversation for some time. "Is this what I believe it to be, Mr Pettigrew?" His voice was cold ice. Peter nodded firmly. "And are there more?" Another nod. "You know how many? And where?" Another nod.

Pettigrew gestured with his head towards a locked cabinet in the corner of the room. "If you would, Professor, it would probably be faster than words."

"Of course." The two rose and a flick of the Headmaster's wand opened the doors to reveal the artefact within. Padfoot's eyes widened yet again (he seemed to be doing that a lot today; just how many more surprises were in store for him?) at the sight of a device so rare he had only ever read about them in the tatty, older volumes in the Black Library. Dumbledore was now holding his wand to Peter's head and extracting strand after strand of glowing energy and placing them carefully into the rune-inscribed bowl. Finally it was completed and the two stepped towards the bowl. With a flash, they were gone.

"Will someone please explain what's going on?" asked Remus politely.

"That's a Pensieve, Lupin," Lily explained, still eyeing the diadem. She and McGonagall were staring warily at the object, as if afraid it would sprout limbs and attack someone. "It allows you to see thoughts and memories of another person. The two of them are no doubt reviewing whatever memories Peter claims he received from this future Potter."

"I never thought I'd see one in real life," Sirius commented. He got up and walked around it, glancing over the complex runic array that encompassed it. "It's really, seriously ancient and complicated magic. Only the highest-level enchanters can make them. I wonder where Dumbles got it?"

"Headmaster Dumbledore," corrected his Head of House absently, "has travelled far and wide and collected many strange and wonderful artefacts. And if you bothered applying yourself in Ancient Runes for once, Mr Black, you may have the opportunity to examine similar items up close."

"But then I'd have to _study_ ," Sirius shot back cheekily, making the final word sound like the foulest of diseases.

"That is the entire point of Hogwarts, Mr Black," she replied, somewhat sharply.

"But if I studied too hard then terrible things may happen," he shivered dramatically. "I could turn into a swot – or worse, turn into _her_!" His finger swung and pointed adversarially, a j'accuse towards the most terrifying thing Padfoot could ever imagine transfiguring into: Lily Evans.

The terrifying thing in question rolled her eyes, but her response was stymied by the return of the two memory-voyagers. Dumbledore looked as if he'd aged 100 years in a couple of minutes. And been run over by a street-sweeper. Which had paused to back over him a few more times. And then stolen his gold-purse. Sinking down heavily into his chair, the Chief Warlock raised his wizened hands and rested his head in them.

"What did you show him?" Sirius whispered conspiratorially. "He looks like he just saw the end of the world."

"Just some memories that Future-Him gave to the person who's memories I've got. Which Future-Dumbledore had collected from other people's memories," Peter whispered back. "So it's like memories of memories of memories. Hmmm, I wonder how many times you can do that before the quality starts to degrade. Like taping copies of copies of other tapes. Or can memories be replicated forever …?"

"Albus?" Charlus queried worriedly.

"I am fine my friends," the old man said tiredly. "I have … simply received one too many shocks today. At my age, one cannot handle too many surprises piling up on top of the other. If you please, I request that we continue this discussion another time. I must … I must think on this. In the meantime, I must ask all of you, by all that you hold sacred, to not breathe a word of what has transpired tonight. It could mean the difference between life and death for many." He stood. "I feel I must retire for the night. Please feel free to continue using my office for as long as you wish. Fawkes!" With a musical chirp, the restored-and-now-magnificent-once-more bird fluttered over to Dumbledore and perched on his shoulder. The old man staggered away to his private bedroom, levitating the diadem in front of him as he went, and shut the door firmly.

With his exit, the rest of the room seemed to let out a breath they hadn't realised they were holding, and the tension flowed away.

"I do believe that Professor Dumbledore is correct," Professor McGonagall opined. "It may be best for all of us to retire."

"If you'll permit me, Professor," Charlus said. "There is still one minor matter that needs to be resolved before the evening is through." He gestured to the stack of legal papers on the Headmaster's desk, and smirked at Peter's dismayed groan.

The corners of McGonagall's lips curled upwards. "Quite right, Mr Potter. It is important for students to learn the full weight of their responsibilities to our world. What better opportunity than right now?"

"You're evil, you know that," grumbled Peter.

His Head of House favoured him with a reproving glare. "I suggest you get to work, Mr Pettigrew, if you wish to complete all of your paperwork before dawn. Rest assured that you have an exemption from the curfew rules for this night only, in light of your official lordly duties."

Pettigrew did not seem thrilled by such a prospect, muttering something that sounded a lot like 'hand's going to hurt like a bitch tomorrow'.

Lily and Remus decided to call it a night and returned to their dorms, James following along on autopilot, still wearing a shell-shocked expression. Padfoot really couldn't blame the guy. Sure, Prongs could've handled the whole situation with a boatload more grace and tact (and let's face it, if _Sirius Black_ is telling you that you need to act more tactfully, you KNOW you have a real problem!), but it wasn't every day a man gets the rug of his entire life/hopes/dreams pulled out from under him in the space of a couple of hours. He sighed to himself. James was going to be a right wreck for ages. Padfoot'd have to think of some way to cheer him up. Get his mind off his troubles and learn to embrace whatever life presented him with a smile on his face and a song in his heart. Yeah, this was going to be a bitch to manage.

There was silence for a time, broken only by the scratches of the quills that Charlus and Fleamont were using to fill in blank spaces of forms, and that Peter was using to sign and authorise the numerous documents. Halfway through one such document, Pettigrew suddenly lifted his head and addressed Aunt Dorea. "Madame Potter, I know I've asked a lot of you tonight," he requested politely, "But if you could possibly do me one more favour I would be forever grateful?"

"And what would that be, young Lord?" she asked, a regal eyebrow arching. "After the revelations of tonight, I wonder if there be any secrets remaining in the world."

Peter smiled wearily. "Nothing so dramatic. I would like you to deliver a letter and an offer of investiture to one of your relatives."

"That is all?"

"Ahh… if you could possibly persuade her to accept, that would be most appreciated."

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Healer Theodore 'Ted' Tonks eyed the rather overweight and overpale sixth-year student, more than a bit impressed at the way the hypothyroidic-looking boy had managed to separate and isolate him from the other Healers at St Mungos.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, trying and succeeding to look friendly. Being a former Hufflepuff gave him enormous advantages in bedside manner. "Do you have a medical issue you want me to take a look at?"

"You've married a former member of my House," the student said bluntly. "Her uncle has already thrown her out of the family and disinherited her. This won't be enough for her aunt, who's probably already put a hit out on her: Andromeda'll likely be killed along with you and your entire family."

"Are you threatening me?" Ted growled.

"Warning you," the boy replied. "I almost forgot: my name is Peter Pettigrew, the new Head of House Black."

"Ted Tonks," he said dryly.

"I know."

"So I see. Why come to me? Why not Andromeda?"

"Because Andromeda doesn't know me from Bill Wyman. And she'd never have been stupid enough to be led to ground of my choosing," Peter said cheerfully. "And she's also a lot more dangerous than you." The boy paused to think. "Oh, and she'd probably hex me a few times just on general principle so that her former family members wouldn't think she was getting soft before she went anywhere with me, and then she'd hex me a few times so I didn't look so pretty that the other Healers start wondering what we were up to when they couldn't see us."

"Oh." Ted found it hard to believe that any female would be suspected of indecent dealings if left alone with this 'fine' specimen of manhood.

"And that's assuming she didn't decide that it would be safer to wipe my memories and enact her escape plan. This way, I have a hostage in case she comes charging in."

"Hostage?"

"Touching that door handle was a very bad idea," the boy explained. "Not as bad as if one of the other Blacks were the one who wanted to meet with you, but bad enough to at least make her think about things before she started hexing. You may want to tell your wife that when you see her."

Ted closed his eyes and slowly counted to 10. His wife was lucky that she was gorgeous, fun to be around, blessed with a delightfully dry sense of humour, and the mother of his adorable bundle of joy, or he'd be giving some serious thought to whether it was all worth it. "Alright, what do you want?"

"To help you of course," the boy said, looking at him like he was as dim as one of the Carrow twins. "Why else would I have arranged this meeting?"

Ted closed his eyes and counted to 20. "Exactly how can you help us?"

"I'm the Lord. Means I get to use all sorts of stupid rules that haven't been used in forever," Peter explained slowly and clearly. "I'm going to use one of them to give Andy a bit of cover. Won't do much for you or your family if the other Blacks went all out, but at least she and Nymphadora will be safe."

"That's something, I suppose," Ted allowed.

"And I should be able to help with that if Andy cooperates," Peter continued. "All I need from you is your signature on some documents, and your price."

"Price for what?"

"The price for you. To be sold as a slave, your family needs to receive something of equivalent value in return or it doesn't work," Peter explained.

"You want to do WHAT to me?!"

"Sell you to Andy as a slave, of course."

"How am I going to ... how is that even legal?"

"Normally it wouldn't be," Peter admitted, "but you're a muggleborn so it's allowed in your case."

"What?!"

"Purebloods or halfbloods generally can't own purebloods or halfbloods as slaves, though there are several loopholes. Muggleborn _certainly_ can't own purebloods or halfbloods, or even other muggleborn or muggles as slaves. But purebloods _can_ own muggleborn and muggles as slaves, without restriction. Sometimes halfbloods can too in very restricted circumstances. So you're in luck!"

"Lucky am I? Oh joy."

"Save the sarcasm, you suck at it," Peter replied, his tone indicating that his opinion of the man's intelligence had dropped yet again. "Let's cut to brass tacks: the Black Family Rules prohibit any member of the Black family from marrying muggles or muggleborn, and some categories of halfblood. Unless you're the Head – which neither of you are – who can do whatever they please. Violation of the family Rules is grounds for expulsion, and other family members have free rein to 'punish' the violators. Historically, said violators tended to vanish from the world. Occasionally a piece was found here, and other piece there. You get the idea. Andy's marriage to you puts all three of you right in the cross-hairs; however if you're her slave, then everything is hunky dory – the Rules don't prohibit the owning of muggleborn slaves, in fact they actively encourage it; family members with muggleborn slaves tend to gain prestige and higher status, more often than not. With you as her slave rather than her husband, I can readmit her back into the Black family. Which then gives Nymphadora, and you to a certain extent, status and legal protections that you otherwise wouldn't have. So, what do you say?"

"You do realise we're already married, right? Enslaving me to her doesn't change the fact that she's my wife."

"Did you get your marriage licence in the muggle world or with the Ministry?"

"The muggle world," Ted admitted sourly.

"Then there's no problem, is there?"

"I'm going to have to think about this …"

"Very prudent. I'd be pretty worried for the future of the Tonks family if you believed the first cock-and-bull story some stranger right off the street told you. Check it out with Andy, and you'll find out I'm on the level. Oh, there's one other thing: if she agrees, there's something I want from her in return for reinstating her as a Black. I'll even pay her for it …"

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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Despite having gone there directly from the side-office he'd been corralled into, his wife Andromeda Tonks née Black was waiting in his private (supposedly secure) office when he arrived. "How did you get to St Mungos so fast!? I haven't even sent you my message! And how did you get into my office? The personnel wing is supposed to be the most strongly warded place in Britain outside of the DoM!" Ted greeted his beloved life-partner.

His 17-year old spouse raised a perfectly formed eyebrow and twitched her lips in a way that attracted the entirety of his attention.

"Right," he coughed. "Uh, this way." A few silent minutes later and they were outside the door to the side-office in question.

"Wait outside," Andromeda ordered. "I may have to be a bit _short_ with my precocious new Head of House, and I would prefer for you not to see me like that."

"Whatever you think is best," he said doubtfully. "Uh, before you go in ..."

"Yes?"

"He says he coated the doorknob with something before I met with him ..."

"It's been removed now," Andromeda purred, with another fascinating lip twitch. "He should know what I would do to him if I detected it and he'd also know that I _would_ detect it."

"I didn't," Ted admitted without shame. "He wanted me to make sure you knew that too."

"Of course he did," Andromeda sighed. The girl regarded him silently for a few minutes. "But I still want to keep you."

"That's good to hear." He didn't laugh.

"This shouldn't take long," she promised before stepping into the room.

"Hello, Mrs Tonks," Harry said happily. Merlin, it was so good to see Andromeda again! He'd forgotten how much he'd missed his aunt. Although with her barely a year older than his new body, he guessed he'd have to settle for elder sister or cousin henceforth. "How are you, cousin?" He tried the word out.

 _Cousin Andy … I approve of the way it rolls off the tongue, the Otter pronounced._

 _Prek! the Owl agreed._

She raised an eyebrow as his familiar form of address but didn't comment on it. "Why are you here?"

"Because Dorea Potter-Black refused to approach you on my behalf! Something about owning up to my own responsibilities or some rot," he grumbled, a touch petulantly.

The corners of her lips twitched up a bit at that, it did sound like something Aunt Dorea would say. "I understand that on top of turning House Black upside-down and side-to-side, you are meddling in my relationship?"

"As is one of my responsibilities as the Head of House and lord of all I survey," Harry agreed. "As you're no doubt already aware, your parents and aunt and uncle are violently displeased at your wedding a muggleborn, but the two of you look good together, so I've decided to arrange things so that it won't be a problem."

"I see." The expression on her face would have done bad things for Ted's heart-rate and sent most Death Eaters backing warily away. "How exactly are you going to accomplish this?"

"I'm going to enslave Ted to you," Harry said cheerfully. "That way, the family can't possibly object to you keeping him around underfoot in your house every day. Or him hanging around all the time whenever you visit the relatives. The rest is up to you, but don't worry, I've got that part figured out too."

 _Thank Merlin for all those long nights listening to Aunt Andromeda rant about her crazy former relatives! the Grim cheered._

"Oh?"

"Just be sure to tell your parents and aunt and uncle that the main reason you're going along with this is because you want someone you can easily dispose of if the mood takes you, without the Black family accounts taking too much of a hit," Harry told her. "Be sure to mention his other qualities as justification for why you haven't done it yet, and the fact that Healers are so expensive these days so it just makes economic sense to have one on hand that you never have to pay. But play up the whole convenience thing."

"That sounds entirely too much like one of my aunt's arguments," Andromeda said coolly.

"Yup," Lord Black agreed with entirely too much cheer. "Which is why it'll work. Your uncle Orion's got years of experience dealing with Walburga."

"That –" Andromeda paused to consider the matter. "Is a valid point," she conceded reluctantly. She brandished her wand. "Do I have to remind you of how displeased I will be if this goes badly?"

"Do I have to remind you of the fact that I had time to prepare this room?" Harry shot back.

Andromeda sighed, her wand disappearing back into its holster. "I'm going to have another talk with Ted about how important it is to be cautious."

"I can teach him," Harry volunteered generously. "I wouldn't want you to have to do anything that might endanger your relationship."

"I use positive reinforcement with him," Andromeda stated. "I'll explain what that means when you're older and know enough to be embarrassed by what I'm telling you."

"You're only a year older than me!" the tubby boy objected.

"Though I will keep your offer in mind," she said warmly. "Thank you, 'cousin'."

.

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.

"So how'd it go?"

"Hmmm?" Andromeda regarded her soon-to-be-official slave through half-lidded eyes.

"The meeting with Orion?"

"I find myself having to revise my opinion of our new Lord," she admitted.

"In what way?"

"The entire meeting went exactly as he predicted," she replied. "I even got a nice note from Aunt Walburga thanking me for being so considerate of the family's financial situation. Only threatened my death for disgracing the House by marrying filth below my station six times."

"That's nice?!"

"For her, writing to a blood-traitor like myself, that's extremely polite," she sniffed disdainfully.

"I take it she's sort-of okay with you because she thinks you married me for my family's great wealth," he sighed. Better than he expected and bearable since he knew it wasn't true.

"No. Because the fact that you're a muggleborn means that it will be relatively simple and inexpensive for me to dispose of you if I grow tired of you or if you annoy me in some way. It was one of the arguments suggested by 'Cousin' Pettigrew."

"You used it?"

"I am a Black," Andromeda pointed out with what, under different circumstances, would be a sultry grin. "Of course you now realize what a bad idea it would be to ever think about divorcing me. You _did_ promise to take care of me for the rest of my life when you heard how my uncle was likely to react to our marriage."

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.

.

"And just where have you been, mister?"

"Out," Harry relied sulkily. Sounding remarkably like a petulant teenager who'd been caught out of bounds. Which is exactly what he was.

"Doing what?" The Head Girl jabbed her quill at him in a vaguely threatening gesture.

 _Just needs the final elongated loop at the end and it'd be a perfect Confrigio, the Lynx noted critically._

Mary MacDonald immediately slipped into a chair next to her best friend. The drama these two generated was never unentertaining.

Harry took a quick glance around the common room. A few Gryffs scattered here and there in study groups, some Koldovstoretz students huddled around the fire, a lone Durmstrang girl serenely composing a letter with a peacock feather quill. No Marauders in sight, except for a dozing Remus – curled up in an armchair in the corner – but still too many eyes and ears for this conversation. "Had to go to St Mungos to get something fixed," he replied reluctantly, hating that he found it near-impossible to lie to her under direct questioning. It was inexplicable, really: the way he'd grown up, lying had become second nature. With the whole world watching you suspiciously, if you wanted to escape trouble or to avoid unjust punishments, you quickly learned to lie hard, lie fast and lie convincingly. (Pretending to be a mediocre duffer was another vital survival strategy, one that had served him well in primary school, was a mixed bag of results at Hogwarts, and failed completely at the Auror Academy. There, if you pretended to suck at your job, you spent a week fighting Robbie the Remedial Wrestling Robot to 'brush up' on your skills. He'd logged more hours with 'Robbie The Wrecking Ball' than the rest of his Auror intake combined. Merlin, he hated that damn golem.) Which is why it was so frustrating that all she had to do was turn those piercing emerald orbs onto him and he was putty. Maybe it was a side effect of the ritual? Maybe you could no longer hide secrets from a person you had bared your soul and magical core to so intimately? He'd have to test whether it worked both ways.

A perfect crimson eyebrow arched. "Oh? And what can St Mungos cure for you that Madame Valentine cannot? I mean, seeing as you've already fixed _your most serious medical problem_ ," she said sarcastically, eyes flicking to his now-no-longer prominent overbite and normal-sized front teeth.

 _Oh great, she's obviously still mad at you for that ritual last week. Oh, and for wrecking the school in the aftermath. And for knocking her magical core out of whack. And almost losing her the Head Girl badge. And for you accidentally marrying her off to you. But honestly, when's she going to let it go? It's starting to get ridiculous, in my professional opinion, the Grim pontificated._

 _She_ has _been spending a lot of time muttering things about being married to her son, or what she was going to do, or what her parents were going to say, and so forth, the Otter murmured worriedly._

 _Well, do you have any suggestions for me? Harry asked her. You know, from a female's perspective?_

 _Harry James Potter, I may be a female Otter, but I'm still part of_ your _psyche! I can't give you any new information! she huffed._

"Well …"

"And don't tell me it was Dragon Pox! I know for a fact that the Nurse inoculates every student who hasn't been vaccinated in the first week of first year."

"To get a face-lift and tummy tuck, of course," he posed dramatically, twisting back and forth for full effect. "Two for one special all weekend. It's not much but it's a start … "

"I find that very hard to believe," she said flatly.

"Bite your tongue! I'll not hear a word against Dr Tonks and his highly professional (and highly discreet) team of Cosmetic Healers!"

"You look exactly the same as you did last night."

"The sign of a well-done nip 'n tuck is that nobody notices anything different," he stated confidently.

Lily merely glared at him, fists on her hips. She cut a surprisingly intimidating figure for a five and a half foot teenager who was sitting behind a study desk.

 _Damn, my strategy of giving overly-ridiculous responses to avoid having to answer her questions doesn't seem to be working!_

"Uh, would you believe, to remove a sub-dermal haematoma?"

"I find that hard to believe, as well."

"Would you believe, tar-lung?"

"Nope."

"Tennis elbow?"

"Nuh ah."

"Quidditch knee?"

"No."

"How about Scamander's Scabies?"

"Niet."

"The dreaded Flamel Flatulence?"

"Pshaw!"

"Hysterectomy?"

"Get serious."

"Achy-breaky pelvis?"

"No."

"Geostigma?"

"Nup."

"Footrot?"

"Try again."

"Smallpox?"

"It's been eradicated."

"The Black Death?"

"No."

"The Red Death?"

"Next."

"The Yellow Peril?"

"Nein."

"Ovary transplant?"

"Non."

"Uh … leprosy?"

"…"

"Ye saying ye got appendages droppin' off, lad?" Mary chortled, examining him from head to toe. "I dinna see any missin' fingers, so it must be from parts that're hidden from polite society, eh?"

"Mary!" snapped a scandalised Lily.

Harry eyed the girl speculatively. Dark auburn hair, rash of freckles dusting her cheeks, blue eyes with bright, piercing sparkles, almost like they belonged to a more vivacious Dumbledore. A girl of sudden, darting action and loud, boisterous laughter. Thick brogue and fiery temper. He knew nothing about her except his own observations, and what he'd gleaned from Snape's dying memories. That she was Lily's best friend and … didn't she marry a Prewett or something? Unbidden, a scrap of memory surfaced, something Remus had said to Ron at some point. What was it again? Something about how she always knew exactly what to say and when to say it? Judging from the flush in Lily's mortified face (its redness matching her hair perfectly), if the intended aim was to wind the Head Girl up as much as possible, then she certainly fulfilled that criterion. What else did he say? A person resembling a goblin-made artefact, whatever doesn't kill her makes her stronger. Nothing fazed her and she always bounced back. Something along those lines.

 _Someone with such Nietzschean qualities would make a valuable ally, the Lynx suggested. But she is your antagonist's friend, not your own. You will have to offer her something of value to entice her support._

 _How in Merlin's name do you know what 'Nietzschean' even means? demanded the Otter._

 _Though whether the question was directed at the Lynx or Harry himself, Harry did not know._

Was Moony in love with MacDonald? The way Ron told it, it sounded as if the Marauder had carried a torch for the Scotswoman for decades. Only one way to find out. Perhaps Harry had a chance to get the werewolf a chance at some love and affection of a non-brotherly sort, several decades before his tumultuous and ill-fated marriage to one Auror Nymphadora Tonks.

"Ladies, please," he interrupted the girls' hissed argument. Which turned out to be an ill-fated mistake, as he was now the target of both muggleborns' combined laser sights. "Alright fine, maybe I was kinda lying …"

"What a shock. Only 'kinda' …"

Harry cringed under Lily's gaze. It was hard to have her look at him like that, even on such petty matters like this, when she used those eyes … his eyes.

"Family business," he conceded reluctantly.

"Actual business from your actual family, or fake business about the fake family you swindled your way into?"

Harry winced at the cutting tone. "The latter option. The swindley one. But I can't talk about it here. If you two want to hear about it, we have to go somewhere more private. Far too many gossips and stickybeaks in the common room."

The girls had a rapid, fierce row through eye and silent gesture. Harry took the opportunity to stroll over and gently wake the snoozing Marauder.

"Hey Moony," he hissed.

"Grmwephsafrfnlgle," grumbled the werewolf, opening his eyes blearily. "Go 'way, Wormy. Trying to sleep."

"Don't tell me you were up all night again doing your mysterious 'research'?"

"'S none of your business."

"Fine, be that way," Harry crossed his arms petulantly.

"What do you want?" Remus sighed, finally coming fully awake.

"Oh nothing much," he said lightly, "was just going to show the girls a good private place and have a chat about this and that. Maybe do some study, catch up on some training, stuff like that."

"I'll pass, thanks." Moony settled back to resume his nap.

"Mary's coming too," Harry added casually, starting to walk away. "I thought we'd make it a two-on-two sparring and study session, but if you're not interested …"

He got three paces before … "Ah well, on second thoughts, you can never study and train too much can you? Especially in these trying times!"

"So true," Harry agreed sagely.

.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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.

"Is she always this hyper?" Harry asked Lily in an undertone.

"Unfortunately," Lily sighed. The trotted at an even pace, trying to keep up with the energetic brunette who raced ahead like an excited child. Moony brought up the rear at a far more sedate speed.

Harry reached the seventh-floor corridor that was his target and walked past a certain statue. He stopped, changed direction, and turned around, leaving a confused Lily behind.

"Hey!" Ignoring Lily's cry he strode to the other corner, leaving Lily to run up. He stopped suddenly and she collided with his back. She fell back and only Remus's grip on her arm stopped her from falling ingloriously on her behind. Harry smirked and grabbed her hand. Walked the other way again, dragging the Head Girl behind him.

"What the hell are you doing?" Lily burst out in irritation, her emerald eyes beginning to flash. Harry ignored her again and reached the corner for the third and final time. He turned and pointed to a section of the wall.

"Watch," he instructed. His companions gasped as a door appeared out of nowhere. He opened the door and led them in.

Remus strolled in, sniffing curiously. "Cool," he breathed. "How did we never discover this hidden room? I thought we'd found everything."

"It's a secret of the Hogwarts elves," Harry explained. The Room of Requirement had taken the shape of a large room with high, vaulted ceilings and a set of comfy chairs tucked away near a roaring fireplace.

 _And because it doesn't show up on the Marauders' Map, added the Otter. The artefact is useful but hardly infallible, unfortunately._

"What is this place?" Lily asked, looking around the enormous space. It was hard to believe a room this large could fit into this wing of Hogwarts castle.

"The elves call it 'The Come and Go Room'," Harry explained. "Aka 'The Room of Requirement'. So called because you walk past the statue three times concentrating on what you want and the room provides what you require for you. It's where they store all the trash of the last millennium."

"Wow." Lily suddenly realised that Pettigrew's hand still held hers, the warm, rough grip surrounding her slender hand, thumb unconsciously tracing a pattern. She dropped it like a hot potato and stared at him awkwardly, painfully aware of the tension that had suddenly sprung up in the room. Salvation came, as usual, from a familiar source.

"Oi, thanks for telling me ye'd stopped!" grumped Mary, head poking through the door.

"That's what you get for running on ahead like a hyperactive toddler without knowing where you're going," Lily lectured.

"What's important is that now we can put the screws on your rodent pet to dish out all the juicy gossip," Mary ably deflected her with the ease of long practice.

And just like that, Harry was the centre of attention once again. He cleared his throat uneasily. "So, where shall we begin?"

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.

"You've been telling us bald-faced lies, you cad!" Mary gasped. "So he _didn't_ have leprosy!" she whispered to Lily in mock scandalised temper.

"I don't like the idea of selling muggleborn into slavery," the Queen of Gryffindor said flatly.

"Does anyone?" Harry replied rhetorically. "Or at least, anyone who isn't a raging, pureblood bigoted bastard?"

"Hmmmm," Mary said speculatively. "I can think of a few hunks o' beefcake I wouldn't mind have tending to me every whim …"

"It's good for Andromeda, she gets her family name and social status back; good for Nymphadora who won't be an outcast and misfit; good for the House of Black to have some of their most talented members back; even good for Ted."

"How is it good for Mr Tonks for him to be enslaved?" demanded Lily.

"Because, slave or not, he's now attached to an Ancient and Noble House," Harry said patiently. "Which, unfair as it is, counts for a lot in magical society. It'll open all sorts of career doors, for example."

"Yeah, at the cost of his liberty," she huffed, once again painfully reminding him of a bushy-haired bookworm of his acquaintance.

"If it makes you feel any better, from what I hear, his much-vaunted 'liberty' is already pretty much non-existent: his wife already wears the pants in the family, even though she's, like, a decade younger than he is. She organises the household, looks after the kid, decides on his clothes, their finances, their holidays, and basically runs every aspect of his life. I doubt he'd even notice the difference! Besides, his wife was born a Black, and Blacks are known for getting what they want whenever they want from whomever they want, slave or free."

Lily still looked put out. "Enslaving muggleborn doesn't happen to be another power of a Head of House, does it?" she asked suspiciously.

Harry was a picture of innocence. "Why, as a matter of fact it is. Why do you ask?"

"Don't you even think about it, Mouseketeer! You try and enslave me and Beelzebub and all his hellish minions will have nothing on what I will do to you with a quill and a tickling charm!"

Harry laughed ruefully. "Your constant paranoia about me is both disturbing and hilarious, Lils. In case you've somehow forgotten, I'm _not_ James Potter. Tricking or forcing you into loving me would completely miss the point."

"And yet you've managed to outdo him on every front – or have you forgotten about that whole so-called 'magical marriage' debacle?"

"Something which ensures that I _can't_ enslave you," Harry pointed out reasonably. "Nobody can. You're the de facto Lady Black, remember; the purest of the pure, the bluest of the blue bloods, _in saeclo saeclorum_ …" He began to giggle girlishly . "Sorry, sorry," he waved his hands in surrender to try to avert the volcanic rumblings of Mount Evans, "I don't mean to make light of your situation, but whenever I think about the Ancient and Noble House of Blood Purity and Muggle Baiting and Dark Lord Supporting having a muggleborn Lady and halfblood Lord, it never fails to set me off, hehehehehe ... So whaddya think, Moony?" He cast the Marauder a shrewd glance. "Care to become a slave of a House? I guarantee you'll get all the plum jobs in the future …"

It was hard to get over the fact that, at age 16, Remus was the tallest and brawniest of the four Marauders, by a clear margin. Harry wondered what had happened to the man in the years between graduating from Hogwarts and becoming his DADA professor in third year, to transform him into the thin, frail, tired, greying, beaten-down soul he knew him as in his past life. Lupin had commented once on how difficult it was for werewolves to get employment. Had he been scratching away at near starvation levels for decades? And where was Dumbledore during all this? Well, that wasn't going to happen this time: by hook or by crook, Harry was going to drag Moony (kicking and screaming if necessary) into the heart of the rat race. The Marauder was going to be rolling in job offers and galleons, if Harry had anything to do about it!

Moony was started out of his mooning over Mary (who was completely oblivious to it), suddenly becoming aware of being the unwanted centre of attention. "Ahh … I think I'll pass, thanks."

"You sure? I'm pretty certain the Black House Rules prohibit you joining as a member or even a slave, but I'd bet galleons to Grims that the Potter House Rules have no such restrictions."

 _Damn those Black bigots and their discriminations against so-called dark creatures, the Otter declared piously._

"Er …"

"Sirius is already a de facto Potter these days, and thanks to that you-know-what that happened to yours truly, I am too. Just call me Peter Potter. Hmmm that sounds like a nursery rhyme or something … Peter Persimmony Pettigrew Potter picked a peck of pickled peppers; a peck of pickled peppers Peter Persimmony Pettigrew Potter picked; if Peter Persimmony Pettigrew Potter picked a peck of pickled peppers, where's the peck of pickled peppers that Peter Persimmony Pettigrew Potter picked?"

"Enough!" commanded Lily, rubbing her temples. "You are truly exasperating, you know that? Nobody else in this castle, not even my 'dear' sister at home, can inflict migraines on me the way you can …"

Harry blinked innocently. "I'm merely giving an illustration of Peter Persimmony Pettigrew Potter's Practical Principles of Plain and Perfect Pronunciation," he said in a martyred tone. He was enjoying being able to enunciate without that enormous overbite and oversized front teeth obstructing him all the time. "My point is, Mr Lupin, that makes _you_ the last Marauder who's not pottering around! Why don't you join your friends? What, is the great and powerful Remus Lupin _too good_ to be a member of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter?" he wheedled in mock offense.

"I'll … I'll think about it," the werewolf deflated in defeat.

Harry sighed. This was probably the best he was going to get from the diffident defeatist for now. Too bad he didn't know of the awesome stubbornness that Harry James Potter had in spades! "In that case, why don't we all get some spellcasting practice," he suggested. "Lils, why don't you pair up with me and Mary with Remus?"

"Why?" she asked suspiciously.

"I thought you find me exasperating. Wouldn't it help your headache to cast hexes at me?"

He didn't like the evil grin that slowly blossomed on her face. "That sounds like a superlative suggestion," she purred, caressing her 10 ¼ inch willow wand. "Strong emotions _do_ increase the power of ones' offensive curses, after all. Buckle up, buckaroo."

 _The things you do for love, the Grim shook his head. Moony and Mary had better start appreciating your sacrifices on their behalf and start snogging right quick, or its break-out-the-Amortentia-time, I say._

 _Duck! Now! ordered the Lynx. Tripping hexes down low, itching hexes to the left!_

 _Flee for your life! cried the Dormouse._

.

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.

.

"What the bloody hell is going on in here?" James Potter was appalled. All of his worst fears were coming to life! The love of his life, his eternal soulmate, was having a private session with the Rat Bastard King of Bastarding, in this cosy, romantic, giant stone duelling room. And there the two conspirators were, in the flesh, staring at the two Marauders with the same emerald gaze.

Sirius looked around the room in admiration. "Wicked!"

"Hello Lily-flower!" James greeted enthusiastically, pointedly ignoring the other three people in the room. He noticed with a pang of fiery jealousy that Pettigrew and Evans seemed to have been locked in close combat, no doubt a thin excuse to get up close and personal in public. Lily even had her arms outstretched, hands clenched tenderly around Peter's traitorous throat, no doubt about to draw him close for a scorching kiss as a prelude to – no, no he couldn't ever, _ever_ think of that!

Lily rolled her eyes, changing her stance unconsciously to face the intruders. "Oh great, the Stooge-Parade has arrived."

"But how?" Harry wondered. "We didn't tell anyone where we were going; and I know for a fact that this room doesn't appear in the ward scheme …" _Or on the Marauder's Map. Which means that somebody's ratted us out._ He glared over at Lupin, who furtively stowed his communications mirror in a back pocket of his robes.

 _Betrayed! Harry thought to himself. Lupin, how could you?_

 _Are you really surprised? inquired the Dormouse. Remus, for all his good qualities, has history of cowardly backstabbyness. He's forever squealing on people or running away. He always kept Dumbledore and the Order up to date on all your personal dealings behind your back. Never helped you out while you were trapped like a lab mouse at Privet Drive over the holidays, mourning over Sirius or Cedric. When Tonks got pregnant, his first impulse was to run away and abandon them; real responsible way to treat the girl you knocked up! After your parents died, he disappeared and never checked up on their old child or contacted him for 13 years. You may have been hidden from the magical world, but nothing stopped him approaching Dumbledore to send some mail through him; and I doubt the old man would've objected to an old family friend dropping in every now and then to let a lonely orphan know he hadn't been abandoned. Not to mention all of his self-indulgent, self-pitying wallowing about how difficult it is being a werewolf._

 _Hey! I may be pissed at the guy, but that's awfully harsh! You're hardly one to judge others for cowardice! Harry scolded._

 _The Dormouse shrugged. It takes one to know one._

"Dammit Pettigrew, I told you to stay away from Lily! You even swore an oath on your magic!" James ground out from clenched teeth. "And now I find you … _cavorting_ shamelessly with my love out in the open, as if she were some scarlet woman from Knockturn! Have you no sense of decency, sir, at long last? Have you left no sense of decency?"

"Buzz off, Potter, nobody's interested in hearing about your never-ending self-pity party," Lily pontificated loftily.

"Talk about an endless bummer," Mary added in her two knuts' worth.

"Listen, flower, babe, sweetheart, honey-kitten, snookums … I just don't think that he's right for you. You should find a better boyfriend … like Gryffindor's brave champion chaser, for example." James wagged his eyebrows suggestively, in a manner strongly reminiscent of one Grim animagus.

"Did Sirius feed you that pathetic excuse for a chat-up line? What's next, taking tips from ' _How to Pick Up Girls By Hypnosis_ '? Excuse me while I go throw up," Lily challenged. "Potter, I find you about as attractive as a boil on a banshee's behind."

"I've heard enough," Harry broke in. "Guess our little study period is over, time to hit the kitchens."

"Not quite yet, we still have a little matter to deal with – Peter Pettigrew, I challenge thee to a wizarding duel! Over thy insult to me and mine House, by stealing mine inheritance."

"And stealing your bird from you," Mary added helpfully.

"Shut up!" hissed Lily.

"Yes, and that as well. Face me on the field of honour, thou cur, else be forever branded a coward and knave!"

"Is this really necessary?" Harry demanded incredulously.

"Of course it is," James replied with all due pomposity. "An honourable man cannot allow such a slight to pass unchallenged."

"Must you encourage them?" Lily scolded her best friend.

"But Lils, don't ye want to see 'em duke it out? Two strapping young men in the flower of their youth, fighting tooth and claw for the honour of courting ye? 'Tis so romantic!" Mary gushed, fanning herself. "Why the mere thought's enough ta give me the vapours!"

Lily satisfied herself by jabbing the troublemaking minx repeatedly with her wand. Mary squealed and ran to hide behind Lupin, who looked both embarrassed and incredibly pleased by this turn of fortune. About to give chase, Lily's instincts kicked in and she dodged as a colourful yellow spell shot past her head. Spinning around to face the three other Marauders, she saw that the situation has escalated into a full-blown brawl. Or, more accurately, James was firing hex after hex and Pettigrew was dodging around at a speed that made it perfectly clear he'd been going easy on her in their previous bouts.

Raising her wand into upper-guard position Lily cast a series of jinxes in warning towards James. "Now that's enough! I'm putting a stop to this silly schoolyard scuffle right now. Cease at once or suffer detentions until your graduating day – if you ever manage to pass your NEWTs, that is!"

James instinctively dodged and fired a counter-volley at the threat. Lily, not expecting a counter-attack, squawked and dived out of the way, dodging the first two hexes, but the third clipped her on the shoulder.

"Gaah!" she shrieked, as daisies began to sprout painfully out of her arm.

"Oh my Merlin! Lily, I'm so sorry! It was an accident!" James was horrified at the accident, but it was too late – that spark had lit the tinderbox, and her redheaded temper erupted in full. Cancelling the charm on her arm and banishing the flowers, she unleashed a wave of sickening grey magic at him that he was barely able to dodge. Lily was relentless in her spellcasting, forcing her opponent to dance and weave in much the same way as he'd had Pettigrew doing a minute before. It was an impressive offensive, especially since she'd just spent the past hour trying to hex Peter into oblivion.

"Come on guys, we'll get in trouble." Remus protested plaintively, standing stock still and contributing nothing to either side. Mary's auburn mop poking out from over his shoulder like a meerkat.

Sirius and Harry stood watching the carnage ensue. "Merlin, I hope I never piss her off that badly," Harry muttered, wincing at James' cry of pain. The Potter's skin began turning a reddy-orange colour, his hair green, and steam started hissing ominously from every orifice.

"Guess it's up to you and me to finish this then," Padfoot drawled, pulling out his wand. At Harry's raised brow, he explained, "I'm his second; and since Prongs is a bit _preoccupied_ at the moment –" they both grimaced as James was hurled bodily against a wall with an almighty thump – "it's my duty to take up the duel in his stead. So, _en guarde_! Unless you're afraid to face the might of Padfoot!"

Harry grinned and took a standard Auror duelling stance. He'd never had a no-holds-barred fight with Sirius, in this life or the last, and was curious to see how he'd do. Pettigrew had certainly sparred with the Black from time to time, but it was clear from the wisps of memories that it was all in play. "Come for me then, varlet!" he crowed. "Peter Pettigrew has never lost yet in a battle of magic or wits with the so-called mighty Padfoot!"

 _Which is actually, if depressingly, true on all counts, the Otter mused._

And the game was afoot. Sirius was fast, Harry could admit, but not extraordinarily fast. He did have quite an impressive range of obscure and greyish (i.e., borderline dark) curses, hexes and jinxes, though. Harry dodged, and let loose with a set of hexes from his 'softening 'em up' basket of magical mayhem. Sirius yelped as the very air around him seemed to ignite in all directions with blue and purple flames.

The two had to leap apart as curses from Lily and James' battle strayed into their section of the room, ricocheting from walls and floor.

"Never lost yet to me, Wormy?! Mayhap your memory hath been damaged by one of my hexes, which has caused you to forget our Transfiguration assignment not a week ago!"

"You've never drawn blood from me, and you never will!" Harry declared, striking a dramatic pose, his wand pointed out impressively towards his foe.

"You run THAT fast?!" mocked Sirius, striking his own heroic stance. "But no matter your speed of retreat, this day I shall milk every drop of blood from your carcass!"

"How appropriate, because you fight like a cow!" Harry sneered.

"Whereas you fight like a dairy farmer!" Padfoot sneered back.

"You know, if this battle were taking place on Jupiter, I'm sure that your duelling speed would be quite impressive, given its enormous gravity. Unfortunately for you, this is Earth," Harry mused, changing to a different, but just as manly and awe-inspiring pose.

"You speak like a poet, but you duel like one too!" the Grim animagus retorted, changing his own stance to something far more devastatingly intimidating.

"Fool, my wand is famous throughout magical Britain!"

"Too bad no-one's ever heard of YOU at all!"

"My robe shall mop up your blood!"

"So you got that job as a janitor after all? Congratulations! It's a perfect career change, given that I've duelled with apes more proficient in magic than you!"

"I'm glad to hear you attended your family reunion!"

"I've got the courage, brains and skill of a master swordsman!"

"I'd be in real trouble if you ever used them!"

"Foolish, unskilled dunderhead! My wisest enemies run away at the first sight of me!" sneered Sirius.

"I'm not surprised! With breath like yours, you'd be better off marrying a dog!" sniffed Harry.

"Funny you should say that, you make me think your mother already did!"

"Boys, if you've _quite_ finished all your pathetic macho strutting and posturing, it's time to leave. I'm delegating you two thespians the job of 'escorting' Mr Potter to the Hospital Wing."

They turned, and realised that all the fighting had concluded some time ago. Mary and Remus had already left the Room of Requirement. A somewhat-singed Lily Evans tapped her foot impatiently and gestured towards a groaning heap that was their fellow Marauder.

"Oooh, that's going to hurt like a bitch in the morning," Sirius noted sympathetically.

Harry cast a _Tempus_. "It still _is_ the morning."

"Just goes to prove how right I am," Padfoot replied sagely, prodding their the nigh-comatose multi-coloured remains of a friend with his toe.

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	9. 7 The Battle of Hogwarts

**Author's Note:**

This is a continuation/soft reboot of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse, with a bunch of changes. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" by Rorschach's Blot. Both are used with the permission of their original authors. The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter, Alice in Wonderland, Anchorman, Austin Powers, Avatar: the Last Airbender, Blackadder, The Barber of Seville, the Bible, Discworld, Dragonball Z, Evil Dead, How It Should Have Ended, Farscape, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Futurama, Game of Thrones, Inglourious Basterds, Great Expectations, Heart of Darkness, Indiana Jones, Inuyasha, Keeping Up Appearances, Lolita, The Lone Ranger, The Marriage of Figaro, Mazes and Monsters, Monkey Island, Monte Python, Naruto, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Pinky and the Brain, Pokémon, Popeye, Ranma ½, Red Dwarf, Robot Chicken, The Simpsons, Snakes on a Plane, South Park, Star Trek, Star Wars, Terminator 2, The Thousand and One Nights, Troll 2, Tomb Raider, Yes Prime Minister, White Chicks, and the works of Edgar Allen Poe, HP Lovecraft, Roald Dahl, Shakespeare, or anyone else.

Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.

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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "Faery Heros" by Silently Watches.

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 **Part 2: Peter Pettigrew vs The Knights of Walpurgis**

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 **Chapter 7 – The Battle of Hogwarts**

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Rats and conquerors can expect no mercy in misfortune.

– Old Danish proverb

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"Um, Sirius?"

"What can I do for you, Wormtail, my young and vertically-challenged feller-me-lad – if that _is_ your real name?" the Grim animagus asked breezily, waggling his eyebrows outrageously. They were strolling to their next Charms class.

"You still jog around the Black Lake in the mornings, right?"

"'Course I do – followed by a weights session at the Quidditch players' gym. Got to keep in top form, these guns don't stay so chiselled on their own." He flexed his arms proudly. A gaggle of passing third-year girls giggled and eyed him hungrily. Sirius favoured them with a roguish grin that sparked more than a few radiant blushes. Harry eyed him enviously.

"Can I … would it be alright if I joined you?"

Sirius did a double-take. "You want to come too?"

Harry nodded shyly. Yesterday's 'honour duel' in the Room of Requirement had really hammered home to him how unfit his new body was. He needed to up its game, and fast. Since going back to the Auror Academy was out of the question for the time being, needs must, and this would have to do.

The Black was incredulous. "But you _hate_ exercising – you always refused to get involved, ever since first year! And you hate getting up early even more!"

"Yes I know," Harry said awkwardly. Curse Pettigrew for his lack of athleticism! Just one more item to add to the list of things he hated about the rat. And another check for the number of times he'd kill him, bring him back to life with the Resurrection Stone, and then kill him again, if he ever got his hands on the vermin again. "But I've decided to turn over a new leaf. Fitness is far too important to neglect in the middle of a war. What if we get caught in a Death Eater ambush? … I don't ever want to let my friends down if the going gets rough ..."

"Well okay, if it's what you really want," Padfoot said dubiously. "Training is four times a week, every alternate day. I get up at 5am. You really up for this?"

Harry nodded firmly. He'd show Padfoot, he'd show them all!

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Harry gasped desperately for air. Curse Pettigrew for his lack of athleticism! How could someone who runs around as a rodent so much be so unfit? You'd think that the rat's physiology would help speed up his metabolism to keep his weight down, and improve his cardio, at the very least.

Sirius was an unrelenting taskmaster. He'd apparently taken Harry's comments about the necessity of physical training for surviving the war to heart, since he'd also forced James and Remus to join in their bi-daily morning sessions. He'd also upped the training regime, doubling the number of times they had to run around the lake, and the duration and intensity of their weights routines. James and Remus were highly displeased at their coerced involvement. And James was even more displeased at 'the dirty double-crossing rat's' involvement. However, neither could hardly argue the logic behind it (especially when Sirius 'casually' commented about how much it would improve their physical attractiveness, and possibly assist them in catching the eyes of certain witches residing in Hogwarts). So the four friends grit their teeth and kept at it, week after week.

The main downside of the training was that Harry could no longer state with complete confidence that the Dursleys were completely useless lumps of flesh, not after Petunia's stringent diet and Dudley's 'assistance' in track and field had given his old body speed and stamina to be envied. Now he was forced to start completely from scratch, his fat, ungainly and slow body screaming in protest and fighting him every inch of the way.

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"What's got their goat, I wonder?" James pondered.

"Eh?"

"The snakes are a lot more hostile than usual," he jerked his head in the direction of the Slytherin half of the class. Most of the students were continuing to brush and groom the herd of Abraxans, but Rudolphus and Rastaban Lestrange and group of their cronies had instead opted to stand apart and glare hatefully at the Marauders. "Did we prank that lot and I forgot about it?"

"Looks like they're trying to wandlessly melt our brains with their eyes," Sirius commented airily, glancing over and giving them a wink and a smile, further infuriating them. "Might even work given enough time. Decade or two maybe."

"I heard a rumour that someone stole their clothes and forced them to go to class naked," Remus said.

"What! Someone else is pranking the slimy ones and the Marauders weren't asked for permission? This cannot stand! We need to up our game, lads." James was most put out by such an egregious lack of etiquette.

"I'm a bit more worried by the fact that the Slytherins seem to blame us for whatever their woes are," Remus opined.

Harry stood to the side, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible.

"I wouldn't worry about it," a new voice broke in to their conversation. The boys jumped and swivelled to see their COMC instructor standing over them, holding a bucket of feed. Professor Newt Scamander, a sprightly septuagenarian, broad of back and wrinkled of skin, scrutinised the Marauders with a shrewd eye. "My philosophy is that worrying means you suffer twice."

He thrust the bucket into James' hands. "That being said, screwing around in my class means you'll suffer many many times over. And the negative vibes that have been plaguing my class all week on account of you lot and your Slytherin friends have made me mad. And vengeful. Positively Olympian."

He grinned widely. "In that vein, the Abraxans' stables haven't been cleaned since last term. Hagrid!" The professor's assistant scuttled forward. The half-giant was considerably more slender than Harry had ever seen, but still had a beard you could lose a badger in. "We have eight volunteers to muck out the stables without wands. If they're not done by the end of class, they'll come back tonight. And no diverting rivers to do your job for you!"

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Over at the Ravenclaw table, Gilderoy Lockhart seemed to be of rather gluttonous temperament this evening. Harry had done his best to pretend his former/future DADA professor did not exist. But watching him attempt to inhale every scrap of plant and animal matter within reach was revolting, yet held a grotesque fascination for Harry. _It's horrible, horrible. And I cannot look away._

"What's wrong with Lockhart?" he finally asked Frank Longbottom, who had slipped onto the seat opposite. Frank glanced over and his eyes narrowed.

"Dunno, but something's happened to him for sure. He's been looking dishevelled since the beginning of term," the Head Boy commented pensively. "Which is weird, you know he'd never be caught dead with a hair out of place or a scuff mark on his trousers. And he hasn't flashed that stupid vapid grin at anyone yet. Must be a new record! Also caught him wandering around looking lost a dozen times. Like he'd completely forgotten his timetable or something. Think I'm going to have to have a chat with the 'Claw Prefects again; bunch of neglectful bastards. Needing to study for extra credit is no excuse for neglecting your students … er, you didn't hear that."

"Maybe he obliviated himself by mistake," Harry muttered spitefully, to laughter from the boys, and a few dark glares from the girls. Apparently Gilderoy had not made himself well liked among the Gryffindor male set; already had the women wrapped around his pinky though.

Continuing to observe Gilderoy eat, he couldn't shake a sense of déjà vu. There was something powerfully familiar about the way that mincing fop shovelled food down his gullet like a magical human garbage disposal. _It couldn't be … only one way to find out._ He rose. "Maybe I should go see what's bothering him. Let him know of our concern." Frank and the other Marauders stared at him like he'd lost his mind.

"Are you mental, mate? Dya wanna contract 'poncy slimeball'?" Sirius demanded.

Harry realised he needed an excuse. "On the contrary," he shot his friends an evil smirk, "helping out a fellow student in need is the neighbourly thing to do." A surreptitious wink, and he could see the understanding in their eyes.

"Don't listen to those scruffy niffler-herders, Peter," Mary MacDonald sniffed primly. "I think that's a very responsible and sweet attitude," to some nods from her fellow females. The Head Girl remained indifferent to the proceedings in favour of nursing her third morning coffee.

 _Guess Lily's still ignoring you, pup, the Grim commiserated. And don't bother asking me, I've got no idea how to reconcile with her._

With that morose thought, he made his way stealthily past the Ravenclaw table. As he passed Lockhart, he hissed, soft enough so that only the other boy could hear, "Ronald Bilius Weasley! Chew with your mouth closed, were you born in a stable?!" His imitation of Hermione's scolding-voice was far from perfect, but apparently it was sufficient. Lockhart jerked fully upright, traumatising his housemates by spluttering the contents of his mouth in all directions as he wildly scanned the Great Hall.

Without breaking his stride, Harry continued to amble nonchalantly out of the Hall as his fellow Gryffindor males laughed and jeered. _And Bingo was his name-o!_

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Harry gradually regained consciousness for some reason. That reason became apparent as he opened his eyes … to find himself looking into a pair of baleful yellow orbs that stared intently into his soul from a distance of an inch and a half.

"Gyaaaahh!" Lurching backwards out of instinct, Harry tumbled out of bed onto the hard stone floor of his dormroom.

Picking himself off the ground painfully, he rubbed at a few new bruises. "Kreacher! What the hell?!"

"Rat master tells Kreacher to wake him up when golden-haired pureblood is alone," the house elf sneered. "Golden-haired pureblood is alone."

"I didn't mean glower into my face until I woke up!" Harry grumbled. "How long were you doing that?"

The creature shrugged. "Five, maybe 10 minutes."

"Ugh, just when I thought you couldn't get any creepier …" Harry said to himself.

"Golden-haired pureblood tries to gain entrance to the eagle dorm door. Golden-haired pureblood has got the riddle password wrong 19 times now."

Looking around, Harry realised that the two of them were the sole occupants of the dorm. "Where are the other Marauders?"

"Trying to break into the girl's dormitory again, miserly mole-hair of a master."

"Not again," Harry sighed. But so much the better for him. It was simplicity itself to disillusion himself outside of the entrance to the Ravenclaw common and wait until Gilderoy made his lonesome, shambling way past, to try his hand once more at solving the door knob's riddle.

A quick stunner and levitation spell and Harry was hurriedly racing for the nearest empty classroom. Shutting and locking the door firmly, he lowered his prisoner to the floor and rennervated him. Gilderoy gave a grunt, then suddenly rolled and sprang upright into a standard Auror's duelling position. There was no doubt in Harry's mind as to who he was dealing with.

"Looking for this?" he drawled, holding Lockhart's wand in his right hand, left hand covering the tall blond boy with his own.

"Pettigrew! What the bloody hell are you on about, you stinkin' rat traitor! I oughtta –"

"Cut the crap, Ron! It's me, Harry James Potter!"

Gilderoy blinked.

"Yes it's really me, you twonk!"

"Prove it!" the blond Adonis demanded.

"Your name is Ronald Bilius Weasley aka Won-Won, Junior Auror, belcher-of-slugs, Chudley-Cannons-fanatic, boyfriend-of-Hermione, jealous git that for some reason I still like to hang around with ... shall I go on?" Harry was suddenly having the air squeezed out of him as he was caught in a crushing hug by his still-much-larger-than-him friend. "I'll take that as a no, then," he wheezed.

"You're an ass," Lockhart choked.

The two boys engaged in a fit of totally-manly half-laughing-half-sobbing before they were eventually able to compose themselves. They then compared their newly-acquired bodies.

"You know what, Ron? You look like a complete mincing, poncy fop who'll sign anything if it stands still long enough," Harry observed.

"At least I'm not in the body of a traitorous rat-bastard with a face that looks like a baboon's backside."

"Twonk!"

"Brummie git!"

A long period of reminiscence followed, as Ron and Harry caught each other up on their doings since their ill-fated ritual dabblings. Which led to a long period of feeling sorry for themselves for being such bloody idiots in the first place. Harry broke out Peter's supply of Melancholia, which led to a long period of them smoking and feeling sorry for the loss of the friends, family, girlfriends and other loved ones, who were now on the other side of the … timeline? Yeah, that would do.

"I wonder what Ginny is up to?" Harry asked morosely.

"Probably still hitting the Quidditch circuit hard."

"Do you think she's … found someone else?"

"Hmmm. Hard to say. Ginny never tells me squat. Says I have no filter on my cake-hole, whatever that means."

"Probably better if she does … I'm nothing but endless trouble …" Harry moped.

"A whiny git too," Ron added cheerfully.

"About Hermione … you don't think …?" Harry began, blowing a smoke ring out of the open window and into the chilly night air.

"Think what?" Ron outdid him again, by blowing a series of concentric rings, through which he blew a thin stream of smoke like an arrow going through a bulls-eye.

"I mean," Harry said slowly, "she was asleep upstairs at the time. That explosion … it must've been big enough to blow a hole that can be seen from the moon. Do you think it's possible that …"

"No," Ron said firmly. "That'd never happen. She's too bright and too tough to let such a little thing as her house being blown to kingdom come, put a crimp in her day."

Harry regarded his friend for a long moment, before finally nodding. "You're right. There's no way she … so, how do we find her? If we ended up in new bodies, there's a good chance she did too. Assuming she's even here? She could still be back where we were, you know, _before_. Or she could've been blown clear back to the Bronze Age, for all we know."

"Hmmm. We need to do something that would tell her we're here and looking for her. Something that means nothing to anybody else in the whole world. Something that only the three of us would know about."

"What about putting signs up in the four common rooms?" Harry mused. "Say that we're missing an orange ball of fur named Crookshanks? Nah, that wouldn't work if she's not a student here. Merlin, I really hope she's not in the body of some !Xosa tribeswoman in southern Africa."

"I know!" Ron snapped his fingers. "I've just the thing."

The two friends busily got to work.

"That'd do it," Ron said, dusting off his fingers in satisfaction. "There's no way that won't bring her running. If we don't hear anything, then she's definitely in a different time from us. Maybe she's even Dodging with Dinosaurs or Marauding with Mastodons."

"I hope not," Harry replied. "Poor creatures'd become extinct millions of years before their time."

They observed their handiwork. A newspaper advertisement announcing the establishment of two new creatures' rights organisations:

\- - The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare (SPEEW); and

\- - The Society for the Protection of Ugly Goblins (SPUG).

New members and donations for SPEW and SPUG were solicited, all expressions of interest and gold should be directed to Account Manager Goldenrod at Gringotts.

"I'll owl it to The Daily Prophet immediately," Harry said. "This ad will be on the front cover of the Daily Prophet twice a week for the next year at least! If she's out there, we'll net her!" He checked his watch. "Morgana, I didn't realise how late it was – I need to get back to the Tower soon. If I'm not back in the common room by curfew, Frank'll probably start sending out search parties."

"A competent Longbottom?" Ron shook his head in amazement. "We truly are in a bizarre and upside-down new world."

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Harry smiled across the table at his opponent. He'd been steadily winning favours over the past three hours, meaning the other boy was deep in the tank and had reached the point where he was no longer trying to win so much as to break even. In short, it was the perfect time to enact the next part of his plan.

"How about this," Harry said reasonably. "I'll bet every favour you owe me and, say, five things of dark magical power that I own. Double or nothing."

"And what do you want in return, you bottom-feeder?" sneered the other boy.

"You're going to be number one in Potions in our year. Again. I want copies of your notes on potions, and on dark magic. All of them, including your private stuff that I know you've been working on."

There was a low muttering from the onlookers. What had initially started as a standard volley of insults back and forth over lunch had evolved into a private challenge of exploding snap between two of the opponents. As it progressed, and the bets involved increased, interest in the match had grown and the number of observers multiplied, most deeming this more entertaining than self-study. Gradually the crowd had resolved into two amorphous groups, one primarily of Slytherins supporting their housemate, and one primarily of Gryffindors supporting theirs. After each hand, a chorus of cheers, congratulations and advice were lobbed at the competitors. Many students were conducting their own bets on the side, and some enterprising individuals had set themselves up as amateur bookies.

Most of the uninvolved students inhabiting the Great Hall had moved further away, to the corners of the Hall, to avoid the distracting chatter. Clumps of students sat in study groups here and there with silencing charms raised. Some lamented the pouring rain, which prevented them from completing their assignments out on the Hogwarts lawns.

"Do it, Snivellus!" Sirius egged him on, ever the voice of reason. "Or be forever branded a cowardly belly-crawling snake. Well, branded more than you already are!"

His opponent ignored the comments around them as he pondered Harry's offer. "Bargain struck. Do we have a deal?"

"We do," Harry agreed. The two boys reached out and clasped hands. A brief flash of light and power signified a magically binding bet.

"Show your cards." They both revealed their cards. "I win!" the Half-Blood Prince crowed. "I win!"

Harry smiled in triumph as his cards exploded. "You do. Congratulations."

"What?" Snape turned wary, his finely honed sense of self-preservation warning him that he had just made a very large mistake.

"A deal's a deal," Harry said loudly, taking to his feet. "I hereby release you of all your promises made to me today. As for your possessions, here's your gold," he dropped the pouch of galleons in front of his nemesis. "Kreacher!"

His mutinous servant appeared, many of the students reeling back several steps at how hideous he was.

"Fetch me four artefacts of dark magic from 12 Grimmauld Place, and some magical contract paper," he said imperiously.

Within a moment, the items he requested were on the table before him. No way was he touching those artefacts himself. Seating himself again, Harry quickly wrote out a legal statement transferring ownership to one Severus Tobias Snape on the current date. He signed it, imprinted it with his ring, until there was a flash and the borders of the parchment turned gold, as the transaction was successfully concluded. "There you go, Snape," he said, scrunching up and tossing Snape's copy to the boy, pocketing his own. "Enjoy your horrifying things."

"The deal was for _five_ artefacts Pettigrew, not four! Or is your numeracy as malformed and stunted as your penmanship?" Severus sniffed condescendingly and picked up the ball of parchment with ill-concealed distaste.

"Au contraire, my dear Sevvie-the-Slytherin. The deal was for 'five things of dark magical power', and five things you have. "Bella!" Harry raised his voice. "Could you come over here, please?"

Severus shuddered as the most unhinged girl in the House approached, the expression on her face promising violence, pain, and terror. He tried to make himself look small, hoping against everything that the girl would vent her rage on the disgrace of a rat before him.

"Thank you for coming, Bella," Harry said with a smile. "I asked you here because I've been hearing some rather disturbing rumours about you." The boy held up a hand. "Nothing scandalous, but still the sort that make me worry about your future, looking after which is one of my responsibilities as Head of the family."

He turned towards his companion. "Severus, meet Bellatrix Black. Bella, meet Severus Snape. He's your new owner. And boyfriend too, I guess, if you want him that way."

Severus looked into the girl's oblivion-black eyes, and felt as if he were a rat caught in the gaze of a snake. At that moment, he knew he was going to die.

"He's also one of the foremost experts on the Dark Arts in the student body."

The girl's gaze turned speculative and in it, Severus saw the possibility of living to see the sunrise.

"I'd suggest you not waste any time and get to proving me right about your knowledge of the Dark Arts," Harry whispered to the boy. "It'll likely get very uncomfortable for you if she thinks I lied to her."

"You … you cannot do this, Pettigrew!" Severus spluttered.

"Look on the bright side – the Slytherins won't dare lay a finger on you now. Bellatrix is of the old-school: she wouldn't like it if anyone dared touch something that belonged to her. Or vice versa." He smiled at the eldest Black daughter. "Would you, Bella?"

"I would not," Bellatrix confirmed.

"Outstanding, I'll just leave you two to get acquainted."

"One moment, 'my Lord'," Bellatrix said sweetly, hair starting to frizz and wave in a non-existent wind. "There is still the unresolved matter of a halfblood usurper stealing the most precious possession of House Black, and then having the temerity to try and enslave me to another filthy halfblood."

"Oh Bella," Harry sighed, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "I thought we were beyond your pathetic and feckless endeavours to murder me. Look what your last attempts have 'rewarded' you with," he gestured towards Severus, whose eyes were bouncing between Pettigrew and Bellatrix with a look of growing horror as he could feel the magic in the room start to charge and crackle between them. "Your enslavement is complete, perfectly legal and magically binding. And that is but the least of the things I can do to you. Are you _really_ willing to risk what I'd do to 'reward' you for yet another assassination attempt?"

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Narcissa Black was busily studying her reactions table for her latest Potions essay. Bellatrix's voice broke her concentration just as she finished her notes. Glancing over across the Great Hall, she spotted her eldest sister spinning herself up into one of her screaming, flailing, accidental-magic-my-ass bitch-fits, venting mostly on a happily smiling Pettigrew but sparing the odd vile word for that strange sixth-year whose face had bloomed into a look of utter horror. Snipe? Sneak? Snork? Snarf? Something like that.

A look of utter horror that matched the one growing on Narcissa's face when her quick mind realised what had happened. Pettigrew had gambled away her sister. That simpleton who followed her black sheep cousin around, the ambitionless, talentless disgrace, had obviously been hiding his light under a bushel. His evil, girl-selling light that was just waiting for the proper moment to get the youngest and prettiest of the Black sisters! Abandoning her books, she fled the Hall to hide herself in the nearest empty broomcloset.

Narcissa Black, 14-year-old member of a magical family which had kept its bloodline pure for centuries, did not know the word 'hyperventilate'. Too bad. It fit the situation perfectly.

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Gilderoy Lockhart was up 15 galleons from his betting on Pettigrew's performance. Luckily the stupid suckers were so bloated with confidence that Peter's reputation as a no-talent duffer was justified, that he'd been able to take them all for a ride to Croyden and back. What Ronald Weasley was to wizarding chess, Harry Potter was to exploding snap. He was just collecting his latest winnings from his latest victim when all hell broke loose. The students around him scattered as that crazy bitch Bellatrix and six of her fellow seventh-year snakes fell back expertly into the Lotus duelling formation and simultaneously launched a fusillade of dark curses directly at his best mate's prominent overbite, from a distance of four feet.

Ron watched in horror as his friend dived and twisted with rodent-like reflexes out of the paths of the spellfire incoming from near-point-blank range. Dropping to the ground, a flick of his wand conjured a stone wall that absorbed the impact of the second and third volleys, before shattering under the waves of dark magic. Then Ron's Auror training kicked in. Racing to a flanking position on the Slytherins' left, he kicked over a nearby table and shielded himself behind it. Taking a moment to gather his magic, he cast the strongest string of Bone-Breaking Hexes he could, directly into the middle of the group. " _Ossus Diffringo_!"

He grinned in grim satisfaction as two of the filthy snakes screamed and collapsed to floor, half of their bodies shattered wrecks. The group immediately wheeled around to ensure their backs were to a wall, half shielding and the other half hurling hexes in his direction.

 _Someone's been training these belly-crawlers in combat tactics_ , Ron thought grimly as he threw himself to the side. The table he was using as cover evaporated into fiery dust.

But the distraction had given Pettigrew enough time to scuttle to the row of tables on the Gryffindor side of the Hall, toppling them and transfiguring them into more stone walls. He leaped behind them. Seeing Ron under fire, he hastily animated the tables and chairs closest to the group of Slytherin attackers. They sprang to life, tackling the five students and attempting to grind them into the ground.

" _Accio Ron!_ " His blond-haired friend was yanked out of the corner he'd been backed into and sailed towards Harry at great speed. Harry frantically cast cushioning charms over the Great Hall's walls, just in time for Ron to bounce off it, and into Harry's arms. "Oooff!" The two tumbled onto the stone floor in a dazed pile.

"Having some twenty-one without us, mate?" Sirius Black jumped down beside them to their left. Beyond their wall, Harry could hear the last stand of the brave furniture as it was shredded into woodchips by an enraged Bellatrix.

"Not at all," Harry replied, hastily disentangling himself and sitting up. "Feel free to join in – fun for the whole family." Remus and James appeared on their right, wands drawn. "In fact, I'll even let you lads take the first shot; fire when ready!" So saying, the fivesome raised their heads and arms above their stone barricade and began hurling as many curses as they could as rapidly as they could.

"What in Merlin's mottled mokeskin is going on?" demanded Frank Longbottom, crawling along to join them in their hiding place, Amelia Bones and Kingsley Shacklebolt at his heels. The group ducked and covered as blasting curses tore into the wall above them, showering them with stone shards.

"Snivellus lost a game of exploding snap, and the damn Slytherins decided it was reasonable to throw a fit about it," James snapped, lining up another shot. " _Anteoculatia! Lapidibus!_ " Flashes of coloured light as the spells impacted.

"Where are the Professors?" demanded the Head Boy.

"Where are they ever when you need them?" Harry responded bitterly.

Every other Slytherin in the Great Hall was scrambling to gather around the five seventh-years. Their own barricades began to appear, and more and more shield spells of all varieties and colours bloomed over their company, deflecting the bulk of the Marauders' spellfire.

"Dammit! That's the Chakravyuha Configuration!" growled Ron, recognising the formation that was gradually taking shape. "We can't let them complete it or we're gnome droppings!

"Happy to take suggestions," grunted Frank as he transfigured the Headmaster's golden throne into a cassowary. The keening wail of the giant bird could be heard by all as it raced towards the nearest group of green-and-silver bearers and began kicking them furiously.

Forgetting in the heat of the moment that he was no longer a member of the House of Lions, Ron bellowed at the rest of the scattered Gryffindor students (who were fleeing for cover): "What are you waiting for? Are you Lions or not? Are you going to let a gang of serpents curb-stomp you all day?! Get over here, Gryffs, and give 'em hell!"

Amazingly that seemed to help, clusters of Lions began to form and construct their own strongpoints around the Hall, bolstered by whichever Hufflepuffs remained. The Ravenclaws and foreign students, except for a group of five Beauxbatons girls, had all fled at the first sign of conflict.

The amount of spellfire aimed at the Slytherin contingent increased noticeably. Their side of the Hall erupted in a series of explosions that threatened to bring down the mystical ceiling. Ron Weasley led the charge: "That's it lads! Don't let up for one minute!"

A simple schoolyard brawl was rapidly degenerating into an all-out pitched battle royale.

High pitched screams.

To his horror, Harry saw that the five Beauxbatons students had been caught in the crossfire. Their attempts to escape led them right into an ambush by a group of sixth-and-seventh years. Seeing the meaty fists of the large males bludgeon the girls, set Harry seeing red.

"Cover me!" he snarled, and launched himself into space. Tucking himself into a roll, then using the momentum to push him upright, he dodged and weaved through the battlefield as best he could, dancing around the blasts of black fire that erupted around him. Forcing aside the sickening feeling of dark magic residue.

" _Pelleo! Percutio! Perfigo Rapido!_ "

Harry hunched instinctively as a volley of jinxes sailed over his head. _Founders bless you boys_ , he thought, as he realised his fellows were giving him covering fire _. Just a bit more!_ His lunged burned and shoulders heaved. _That's if this lumpy body can hold out!_

Harry whipped up his wand and aimed at the group of Slytherin girls advancing on the French exchange students. He imagined being chased down a muggle street by an enraged foe. He immersed himself in all the terror of the rat, used it to hype his panic, flow through his core. His magic flowed around him, restless and frantic and desperate. He imagined staring into the murderous eyes of Sirius Black, summoned up every scrap of his power and incanted:

" _Reducto!_ "

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Third-year Apolline Delacour was the unofficial leader of the Beauxbatons girls' contingent at Hogwarts, in spite of being the second youngest. So naturally, when they were assaulted by the blocky English pigs, she took point, banishing the loose stones into their faces, and casting a series of incantations to induce terror, despair and indifference. She could hear her comrades' spells whistle, hiss, snap and pop as they shot past her.

She managed to nail two of them, and her colleagues another three but the sixth weaved aside and lashed out with his gigantic fist. The powerful blow hurled the slender girl backwards and into her four friends, toppling all five like bowling pins. In dazed fury, she unleashed her Veela allure full-bore at the conscious males; who promptly turned into slobbering, gibbering sycophants. "Mistress!" one babbled, drool dribbling from his tongue. "Command me!"

"Protect us!" she shrieked.

The four males slowly lumbered around and began to hex their fellow Slytherins.

"It's that Veela-bitch!" screamed a black-haired woman. "Carrow, Avery, take her out!"

Their protectors were taken down by a volley of spells from their former allies, and now there were only females left. Eight large, brown-haired females charged, firing a host of sickly black spells that Apolline desperately rolled from side to side to avoid. She tried to draw out her rage, to let the wild avian inside her free, but her head was pounding too hard, her eyes swimming too much, her limbs sore and flopping spasmodically.

And now it was too late, the enemies were now upon her, raising their wands to end this –

 _BOOM!_

– and her eight assailants (and the bodies of the fallen 10 males) were hurled over her head like rag dolls in all directions. The Great Hall shuddered, huge billows of dust from the shattered ground swirled around Apolline.

Then parted to reveal her saviour. The most unheroic-looking English moron she had ever seen, out of an entire island chain of unheroic English morons. But there was unmistakeable unholy fire blazing in his piercing emerald eyes, as he twirled his wand and carefully levitated her and her four friends behind the nearest pile of rubble. Setting them down gently, he raced to her side and began checking their injuries.

"I'm no mediwitch but I think it's nothing but concussion from that gorilla. Luckily, laying on the ground helped you lot avoid the impact of the Blasting Curse." His eyes focused on Apolline, and widened slightly in surprise. "You are Veela?" he asked. She nodded shakily. _And now you're mine,_ she thought, enveloping him with her allure.

The boy grinned fiercely. "So Miss Veela, these vipers seem to like throwing fire spells around. Shall we give them a sample of what _real_ fire tastes like?"

The girl favoured him with a ferocious shark-like snarl of her own. Blue-white balls of fire crackled in her palms.

"On three, then. Three!"

The two of them sprang from behind the rubble and unleashed their full fury. Apolline was settled enough now to call forth her rage, and transform into her white-and-gold full-Veela form. Her feathery wings spread instinctively for balance, clawed hands stretched out and hurled ball after blazing ball of white-hot flame into the remnants of the Slytherin ranks. Beside her the English boy cast _Flagro Flagello_ , a long whip of fire lashed out across the Slytherin lines, hit with enough force to rattle her teeth, and shattered into a million glowing sparks. But not before collapsing the remaining Shield Charms, leaving their forces unprotected.

" _Incendio! Incendus Ventus! Flammasectum! Lacarnum Inflamare!_ "

And all was quiet.

A few heads poked up amidst the rubble.

"Yo Wormtail, everything copacetic?"

"All clear on this end, Prongs. How you doing?"

"Bruised and burnt but otherwise in one piece. Sirius, Remus, Gilderoy and Amelia are all fine too, few cuts and scrapes but that's it. Frank and Kingsley are in a bit of a bad way though, we're trying to stabilise them. Lestrange got 'em with some sort of wide-area nightmare hex."

Padfoot emerged from hiding and strolled over to Harry and Apolline, surveying the carnage. "And that's how you fight like a Marauder," he crowed. "Last ones standing."

Harry stepped gingerly through the tangle of supine Slytherins, kicking wands out of reach and stunning anyone still conscious. Until finally he reached the object of his search.

A charred and crispy Bellatrix Black scrabbled blindly for her wand. His foot landed on her hand as she grasped it. Taking care to break the 12¾ inch walnut shaft into several pieces, along with several bones in her slender hand, he said coldly, "Looks like you lose again, Bella. " _Stupefy!_ "

And naturally, at the exact moment when they could no longer be of any possible help, Professors McGonagall, Flitwick and Scamander-Goldstein charged into the Great Hall.

"What's this all about?" McGonagall hissed, her _Sonorus_ -enhanced voice echoing through all corners of the Hall. She glared around the Hall, now littered with the groaning or unconscious bodies of her charges, with undisguised rage, "What could possibility cause this attempt to destroy the school?! Where are the vile beginners of this fray?!"

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Lady Apolline Margueritte Delacour, 3rd Magical Baroness de la Roche-Jagu rarely bothered herself with schoolyard gossip and intrigue. After all, she was the most intelligent, vivacious, determined, articulate, highly educated and, thanks to her Veela heritage, impossibly, ethereally beautiful person in this entire barbaric school. Hardly surprising since this uncivilised island was still wallowing in the throes of the Dark Ages, and even seemed to revel in their backwardness and depravity. How it still existed as a country was a miracle of enormous magnitude. Ergo, all discussion and gossip centred around her and her thoughts and feelings and actions and intentions. As they should. Why she, or anybody else for that matter, would bother wasting mental power on the pathetic uninteresting lives of these English pig-dogs was beyond her.

And yet, in spite of herself, she slowly became more interested in the lives of those around her in this drafty Scottish castle. By amazing coincidence, this change occurred at the exact same time that Peter Pettigrew, a short, unattractive, untalented and entirely unremarkable representative of his people, slipped up and revealed himself to be more interesting than she'd initially thought. Interesting enough to warrant a closer look.

She had been most impressed by how handily he had dispatched his enemies during the combat, and the creativity and brutality in which he'd done so. It pleased her greatly to witness such disciplining of the arrogant pureblood pigs who'd gone out of their way all year so far to express their contempt for her and her heritage in a thousand little slights and taunts, nothing overt enough that one could complain to the faculty of course, but it was an ongoing aggravation. She knew they were trying to provoke her into doing something rash and public. So they could then complain to their rich daddies and mummies about unprovoked persecution. Then their carpetbagger forebears could complain to the Ministry and have her thrown behind bars, or 'put down' as a 'vicious wild animal'.

Again she cursed herself for agreeing to her parents' 'brilliant' plan for her to 'see the world' and 'gain some experience'. She was now almost certain that the whole student exchange was nothing more than an elaborate scheme to get her out of the house for a year so that her parents could have more snuggle-time without her underfoot.

Pondering her predicament, the French girl had put some serious consideration into burning the Slytherin common room down to the bedrock, with them (and the Russians and Northerners to boot!) inside. She had been evaluating methods of doing so that didn't involve Veela-fire or in any other way implicate her. And alibis. Lots of alibis, to make everything nice and redundant. She couldn't use any of the Beauxbatons students, that'd be far too obvious. Right when she had resigned herself to lowering herself to actually agree to dating one of these local elderberry-smellers, Mr Pettigrew had removed the need entirely.

Apolline shivered as she remembered the thrill of excitement that raced through her birdlike Veela soul as she saw him in her mind's eye, unleashing fire and brimstone on the Great Hall, her powerful Veela allure of no more effect on him than a buzzing gnat, as he lay furious waste to their foes. Foes that had dared raise a wand to her and her schoolmates. And now they understood the error of their ways, lying bound and broken in the Infirmary. The largest and ugliest one of them breathing vengeance and death, but that insect would prove no match to the chévalier Pettigrew. Not that that was saying too much of course, since an ill-tempered mutated French sea-bass would not have had difficulty dispatching the gormless oaf. But to dispatch _an entire school's worth_ of the pureblood pig-dogs … well, that was another matter altogether.

Escorting her French schoolmates back to Ravenclaw Tower, Miss Delacour had much thinking to do.

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After the disastrous card game and 'afters-match', Harry was forced to confront the fact that the environment of 1970's Hogwarts was very different to that of 1990's Hogwarts. Like Draco Malfoy issuing lame insults about that Scarhead Potty, or prattling about his dead parents, or that that Weasleys were poor, and so on. The worst of their schoolyard rivalry was Draco petrifying him and smashing his nose in. Which ultimately ended with him almost murdering Draco in a bathroom with _Sectumsempra_ , he grimaced ruefully. But that was the culmination of four and a half years of steadily-escalating hostility. Nothing like the full-scale rampage that had torn through the entire floor at the smallest provocation and laid waste to the Great Hall.

Students had already started to call the tussle the 'Battle of Hogwarts' in hushed and awed tones. Harry tried to suppress the involuntary flinch every time he heard that phrase.

 _It appears the Slytherins are far more aggressive and self-organised than in your time, the Lynx observed. The Knights of Walpurgis ride again._

 _Great, just what I need, Harry groused. Tommy-boy's old Slytherin school-boy association still running strong. I hoped that it had withered and disbanded after he graduated._

 _Your luck is never that good, chirped the Otter._

 _Where else would he collect his fresh blood, his highly-educated Inner Circle-to-be, his gang of droogies, if not from the House of the slimy snakes and the Knights of Walpurgis? asked the Grim rhetorically._

 _Prek! the Owl added its two knuts to the conversation._

 _Which means they're not going to let this slight go, Harry moaned. They're going to be gunning for me, Ron and the Marauders with everything they've got, to regain their 'lost honour' or some rot. Can't give the Dark Tosser a bad name by looking weak, can we? Which means I'm going to have to deal with this gang of droogies like I dealt with the Blacks. Pre-emptive strike, right horror-show._

 _It may even require a bit of the ol' ultra-violence! added the Grim, grinning his doggy smile._

Ensconced in their dorm room, the Marauders observed each other in pensive silence, as Kreacher carefully (albeit resentfully) bandaged up their wounds. They should probably have been recuperating in the school Infirmary, but said Infirmary and its adjacent hallway was currently overflowing with injured students. Their own cuts, bruises and burns were minor enough to be taken care of by a few bandages, essence of Murtlap and an un-eager house elf. Overall, the four of them had probably emerged from the brawl the most unscathed (least scathed?).

Though they'd had to endure a half-hour bollicking from Head Girl Evans, before being sent to their room without supper – and the faculty were waiting to finish collecting statements before apportioning punishments – so that happy, scatheless state of affairs was by no means certain to continue indefinitely.

 _Now what do we do?_ Harry thought tiredly. _This is the first time the four of us have really had a chance to talk since the 'Incident' in the Room of Requirement. Someone's got to do something to fix things, I really, really don't want to spend the next two years fighting a cold war with my only family – but Merlin knows I've got the emotional range of a teaspoon, I haven't the foggiest where to start._ The continued silence was becoming oppressive, Harry grasped for something, anything to break it.

"Boy that escalated quickly," he offered finally. Remus nodded, mercifully not commenting on how lame that sounded. "I mean, that really got out of hand fast!"

"Yeah," Remus agreed. "The House rivalry certainly jumped up a few notches higher than the usual."

"You even stabbed a guy in the wand arm! Nearly took it clean off. I saw that. Did you throw a spear, Moony?"

"Rosier. Git was about to hex Longbottom in the back. I grabbed the spear from one of the suits of armour."

"Not to mention all those horses, rhinos and mammoths – any idea who was doing the transfigurations?" They glanced over at James, who refused to meet their eyes. Continued to pretend to polish his wand.

"Gee, I wonder," Remus scoffed, "just like I wonder who set Travers on fire?"

Sirius started, but didn't bother to conceal his triumphant smirk. "Guess some things'll forever remain one of the mysteries of life, eh lads?" he grinned.

Whether any of such mysteries were about to be revealed or not became a moot point as their door burst open and a silver and blue whirlwind swept into the room, making straight for Harry. She immediately began to chatter in French. He vaguely recognised her as one of the Beauxbatons students he'd saved in the Great Hall.

"Damn Peter, how come you get to snag all the gorgeous birds!?" Sirius blurted in shock. "Don't hoard the wealth. What, isn't Lily enough for you!? I mean, I heard rodents were insatiable but –" James growled in warning. "Oh shut it Prongs, this is more important than your hurt feelings! Being mad at Wormy's all well and good, but you've forgotten the most important rule of mateship – while we're shunning him, he can't teach us his harem-building secrets – oof!" He was tackled to the floor and he and James began wrestling for dominance.

Trying desperately to block out the sound of their bickering, Harry tried to focus on the 100 pounds of grinning French Veela making herself comfortable in his lap. "How on earth did you get in here mam'selle?"

She beamed and another torrent of French poured out

A mop of mousy brown hair poked around the doorframe, belonging to an agitated third year whom Harry kinda sorta recognised, wringing his hands. "I'm sorry! Really really sorry! I don't know what happened! This girl came up to me in the Great Hall and started talking, and then it was like she was surrounded by light, and it felt like I was floating, and then the next thing I knew we were in the common room and she was heading up the stairs to your dorm!" He seemed afraid to enter the room, or even look at the 60 inch girl who had begun to inspect the firmness of Harry's chest.

He sighed again. He could feel the delicate echoes of the Veela allure swirling around him. Now that she'd gained access, she must have toned it down to a level where it wasn't affecting him. "It's alright, she used her allure on you. It's not your fault, you couldn't help yourself. Bad girl," he admonished her, only to be blithely ignored in favour of her testing the strength of his biceps. "Um, could you do us a favour and maybe find some of the Beauxbatons girls and bring them up here to collect her?" The mousy thirdie nodded in relief and shot off.

"Anyone speak French?" he asked. To blank stares. "Bloody Gryffindors," he grumbled.

"Uh, I think Lily speaks some French," Remus offered hesitantly, glancing at James. It still wasn't clear how much latitude there was for saying the forbidden L-word. "I could go get her if you'd like…"

Harry threw up his (now free) arms and groaned, "Why not? Not as if this day could get any worse." Remus didn't wait.

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˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ ….

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"Apolline!"

Sirius gave a yip of delight as two elegant girls in distinctive blue uniforms entered, before being dragged to the floor again.

 _Apolline?_ Harry thought. The name had a vague resonance, someone he had met long ago? Fragments of a memory from Fleur and Bill's wedding … a regal French lady bedecked in silks and diamonds. _Fleur's Mum, maybe? Or aunt or cousin?_ He looked down. _She certainly has the family resemblance. Or do all Veela look alike?_ _Did anyone ever tell me anything about this Apolline person? Ugh, I really had more pressing things on my mind at the time!_

Ignoring the roughhousing, Adélaïde strode regally over to her schoolmate and remonstrated, "Zere you are! We 'ave been looking all over for you, ze ozzers were most worried," as she and Amélie tried to prise the third-year Veela from Harry's lap. "Zank you for watching over 'er …" She trailed off when it became apparent that the girl wouldn't let go of Harry's robes. What followed was a long conversation in rapid French that ended when Adélaïde threw up her hands with an annoyed expression and stormed off.

"Um ... did anyone get any of that?" Harry asked. Amélie regarded him with amusement as a frowning Lily dragged Remus inside.

"Let me try," Lily suggested impatiently. "I have enough on my plate without having to deal with any more Marauder malarkey today, so let's try to resolve this sooner rather than later. Mum insisted I learn some French when I was younger." She said something to the girl who replied quickly.

"Well?"

"... I'm not sure I got that," Lily said slowly. "I couldn't have understood that right. Let me try again."

"Did you get it this time?" Harry asked.

"That can't be right," Lily muttered to herself. Apolline said something in French with a smug expression on her face. "Uh ... I don't know how to tell you this, but ... uh ... congratulations."

"What do you mean, 'congratulations'?"

"There is a very old and normally-unused magical custom," Lily said slowly. "It states roughly that a daughter of nobility shall grant her hand in marriage to anyone that rescues her from a deadly situation. Kinda like those old nursery rhymes about knights and damsels."

"Wait a minute – I rescued _you_ from those Acromantulae!" prompting a squawk of anguish from James, who by now was flat on the ground with Sirius sitting triumphantly on top of him.

"My parents are bankers and homemakers, Pettigrew" Lily retorted hastily. "This girl's parents are ... um ... how do I put this?"

"Nobility?" Harry asked weakly.

"Sorry Pettigrew," she replied, not sounding sorry in the slightest. Apolline released Harry and walked up to Lily. The other girl blushed as the young Veela patted her on the bum and made a close inspection of the rest of the body.

"What's she doing?" Harry asked, with growing dread.

"Uh ... she just asked me to bend down to eye level," Lily replied. Apolline grabbed her by the back of the head with her left hand and peeled Lily's lips back with her right. "I feel like a horse," Lily muttered in disgust. Giving a nod of satisfaction, Apolline said something in French then walked back to Harry and returned to her impersonation of a limpet. "Thanks ... I guess," Lily sighed.

"What'd she say?"

"She says that I have nice teeth," Lily said absently. Apolline rattled off another long string of French words with a satisfied smile on her face. "And that I'll make a fine mistress for you – wait, WHAT?!" The shell-shocked expression on her face would've been priceless if not for the impending doom-hammer he knew was imminent. "Since you're much too insatiable for one girl."

"Pardon?"

"She said that you're far too manly for only one girl," Lily repeated. "Even a Veela. That she's been blasting you with the full force of her magical allure both here and during the fight in the Great Hall, and both times you shrugged it off like you didn't even notice it. Said that this is yet more proof of your incredible virility."

"Oh my Merlin!" bellowed Sirius, who began to enthusiastically bow and scrape (while somehow continuing to pin a now-snarling James to the floor). "We are not worthy, your great Rattiness! Please teach us your secrets, O mighty master of verminous voraciousness!"

"... any way out of this?"

"I'll be in the library," Lily said absently. She began to drift out of the dorm in a daze.

"Wait, don't leave! Agh, how do I always find myself in these sorts of situations?" Harry lamented. "What did I do to deserve this?!"

"Don't panic!" Lily snapped testily, rubbing her forefingers against her temples as if to ward off an oncoming headache. "Just … just … why don't you take her down to the kitchens to get some ice cream while I talk to Professor McGonagall about this situation?"

"But ..."

" _Now_ , Pettigrew."

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Harry sat down to enjoy the banana split the Hogwarts kitchen elves had prepared for them, when the odd girl said something in delight and stole the cherry from the top.

"I was gonna eat that," he muttered unhappily to himself. Apolline looked off into space for a few seconds. Then without warning, she pulled the stem out of her mouth and presented it to him with a look of pride. "Well ... I guess tying the stem into a knot with your tongue is a neat trick, but couldn't you get your own cherry next time?"

Apolline blinked at him, then launched into a long stream of French that ended when the girl began to giggle hysterically.

"Right ... I guess." They picked up their spoons and dug in.

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Lily was sitting in the library surrounded by a stack of books on British and French pureblood customs, trying desperately to find a way to save herself from the latest crazy situation that The Rat Bastard had somehow dragged her into. "Honestly," she sighed to herself. "What's wrong with him? Why can't he just stay out of trouble?"

"You weel not find anyzing to 'elp your Pierre," Adélaïde said gently. Lily jumped; the other girl moved silently as an owl when she wanted to. "Apolline eez too set on 'im to let 'im slip out of 'er fingers." She gave the Head Girl an appraising look. "And yourself for zat matter. It must wonderful to be so desirable to all ze _garçons et femmes_."

"There's got to be something I can do," Lily wailed – er, demanded.

"Accept 'er offer," Adélaïde said with a shrug. "Or who knows who she will find to replace you." With that unhelpful parting advice, she glided away. Lily sighed and returned to her reading. McGonagall would return in little over an hour from the staff meeting to decide what to do about today's rampage. She hoped she'd have something concrete to work with before then.

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	10. 8 The Fall of the House of Slytherin

**Author's Note:**

This is both a HP reworking of "Back to the Future" themes, and a soft reboot/reworking of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" and other things written by Rorschach's Blot. Used with the permission of their original authors (except for "Back to the Future" of course). The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter or anything else. Full disclaimer in the Table of Contents.

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Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.

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Canon-compliant. HP&DH compliant (except the Epilogue). HP&CC compliant (except the conclusion). FB&WTFT compliant. Pottermore compliant (mostly). Some crossover with: Naruto, Ranma ½, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Twilight, Lord of the Rings and Avatar: The Last Airbender. Primarily Harry Potter though.

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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "Tempest of the Fae" by D Mentor.

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 **Chapter 8 – The Fall of the House of Slytherin**

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By gnawing through a dike, even a rat may drown a nation.

– Edmund Burke

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Harry was gratified when he was not immediately accosted by Apolline the next morning when he made his way to the Great Hall. "You find a way out of this last night, Lily?" he asked hopefully as he took a seat next to the bleary-eyed redhead who was nursing a goblet of hot coffee. Mary sat on the other side of the Head Girl, eyes sparkling in mirth, trying heroically not to cackle as she nibbled on her crumpet.

"I think it best just to humour her until we're able to get things figured out," Lily said with faux cheerfulness, eyes locked on the spirals of steam before them. "In the meantime, why don't you just play along?"

"But yesterday you said ... I can't believe you!" Harry stared at the girl in betrayal. "How could you be so blasé about –", the boy cut off when he noticed the approach of the girl who was rapidly becoming the bane of his existence. Apolline skipped happily to him, towing a tall blonde girl who appeared to have a lab coat thrown over her Hogwarts uniform. The French girl nodded to Lily and let stream a rapid flow of French finishing with a sniff of disdain.

"She says, 'look what I found, a perfectly good girl and those idiots with the crow on their flag just ignore her. Such pigs don't know value when they see it'," Lily reported dutifully. Apolline turned from disgusted to enthusiastic in a second, chattering rapidly while she stroked the new girl's hair, jiggled her breasts, and slapped her on the rump. The girl endured this treatment with placid vacancy. Her eyes appeared to be focused on the second leg of the Headmaster's throne for some reason. Harry began to worry that Apolline might have drugged the poor girl. "Thankfully, I'm a very good judge of quality," Lily continued to translate for his (and Mary's) benefit. "Look at that hair, look how big her chest is, imagine the size they'll be in a couple years, and you could bounce a coin on this ass." Apolline nodded in satisfaction and said another few words. "She says that since an extra girl shows that you're manly, having the three of us must show that you're three times as manly as the impotent morons that infest this hellish place," Lily said with a grimace. Mary was rapidly losing the ability to restrain her chortling. Her pale translucent skin was reddening at an alarming rate, causing some of the other Gryffindors to cast her concerned glances. The French girl got a speculative gleam in her eye and blurted a short sentence before laughing maniacally and darting off into the crowd. That was the final straw for Mary, who collapsed onto the table howling with laughter.

The strange girl's eyes suddenly snapped into focus onto Harry's face. Ignoring Mary's total loss of composure, Lily's infuriated glare at her heretofore best friend, and the well-meaning Gryffindors' furrowing of brows in a vain attempt to understand the situation, she stepped forward and said the last thing he could have imagined: "Harry Potter – it is good to finally meet you." She nodded in satisfaction, before pulling a parchment from her pocket, a quill from behind her ear, and began scribbling notes at a rapid pace.

"Gaah!" Harry almost fell out of his seat. "How in Merlin's name did you know that? Wait a minute, were you the one that sent me that owl message on the first morning of this term?"

"Of course it was me," she murmured absently, continuing her furious scribbling. "And I must point out how rude it was of you to never reply to my welcome."

"How could I possibly reply to it? You didn't sign it!" Harry objected defensively. "And I've been going crazy trying to figure out who could possibly know to call me that!"

"Hmmm really? That's hardly an excuse you know. You are a wizard."

"That's not an answer … no, I'm not letting you distract me. The important question is, why did you write that note to me?"

"Seemed like the obvious thing to do at the time."

"What do you mean by – wait, hold up a minute." Harry raised one hand, while using the other to rub his face. After a moment or eight of thought, he looked back up at the girl who was now examining his scalp with a comically enormous magnifying glass.

"Okay, first things first. My name is Peter Pettigrew, sixth year student of Hogwarts; whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?"

"My, so polite. But then you are a chévalier, according to Miss Delacour. " She made an absentminded half-curtsey, never ceasing her examination. "Miss Pandora Selene Lovegood at your service. In more ways than one, it seems, since I have been informed that Miss Delacour has gifted me to you as an engagement present. To help transform you into a skilled lover, thus ensuring that her first time will not consist of any inexperienced fumbling, or premature termination. And also to balance out the influence of the 'bad-tempered one'," she gestured towards the fuming redhead who was bodily dragging her limp and shuddering friend away. Mary managed to wave to him before she was out of sight.

"I don't think Miss Delacour's legally allowed to do that," he replied dryly. _At least I hope not._ He considered the girl standing before him. _Lovegood. Luna's Mum. That explains sooooooo much. It also tells me that trying to figure out what she meant by that note will be both headache-inducing and completely pointless._

 _If there's one thing I've learned about Lovegoods, the Otter offered, it's that to preserve your sanity, just go with the flow and hope the wave doesn't beach you painfully._

She shrugged. "It matters little to me, Harry Potter. I'm happy to be involved with you three, provided I can properly experiment, of course! Bwahahahahaha!" she laughed maniacally.

He felt a chill descend. He'd need to handle this carefully. "Please only call me 'Peter Pettigrew' from now on," he said, straining to be calm. "That other name will only cause me trouble. If you're willing to keep my secrets, I'd be more than happy to assist you with your experiments – within reason of course! NO painful or humiliating tests on living humans!" he asserted firmly.

Pandora looked irritated for a brief moment. "Well, we can agree the details later," she replied airily. "Come see me in my lab after class and we'll begin the testin– uh, I mean we can work out ways of convincing our esteemed Head Girl to properly get into the spirit of things. Until then, farewell." She drifted vaguely over to the Ravenclaw table and sat down next to Apolline. The two girls began to compete to see who could build the most impressive carousel out of the available foodstuffs, to the consternation of their tablemates.

His thoughts were interrupted with the arrival of Remus, who slid down onto the seat that Lily had recently vacated. James and Sirius plopped down on the opposite side of the table.

"Ugh, MacDonald's acting crazier than usual this morning," James grunted, reaching for the pumpkin juice.

"Not to mention louder," Sirius grumbled. "She and Lily woke up the entire House with their caterwauling. How's a man supposed to sleep past 8 on a non-training day? What is this, the army?"

"So what's the deal with you and Lovegood?" Remus asked as he loaded as much bacon as he could reach onto his plate.

"Apolline dragged her over to introduce us before you arrived. She wants us all to be friends."

"And what does the Divine Doyenne of Disassemblement think about all this?" Sirius interjected.

"Divine Doyenne?" James sleepily pushed his wild fringe out of his eyes. "What are you on about Padfoot? I thought she freaked you out; didn't you say she was crazier than your mother, and would vivisect any wizard that gave her half a chance?"

"Details," Sirius sniffed condescendingly. "The fact that she's nuttier than a muggle peanut farm doesn't stop me from appreciating her finer qualities."

"Such as?"

"Such as the finest pair of quaffles this side of Amelia Bones. So, spill: what did she want?"

"She invited me to see her lab this afternoon."

"Already inviting you back to her place eh? You work fast, Wormy! Merlin, if getting a personality implant from the future was all it took to transform timid, shy widdle Peter into such a lust-fuelled powerhouse, imagine what it would do to a sexy beast such as I!" Sirius shivered dramatically. "Why, the very foundations of this universe may be undone! Along with the knickers of every bird on the planet! Guys, we need to start planning a time ritual of our own!"

"Where exactly is this 'lab' of hers?" Remus asked. It was too early in the morning to humour Padfoot's latest crackpot scheme. "And what time are you supposed to arrive?"

"Ah. She never said."

Sirius shook his head pityingly. "So near and yet so far, young grasshopper. It is clear you still have much to learn," looking inordinately pleased at that fact. "Don't worry, we'll track her down after class with the you-know-what and find out what's what."

But such well-laid plans immediately gang agley as the Deputy Headmistress rose and announced that all students who'd participated in the so-called 'Battle of Hogwarts' must report to Filch every day after classes for their full month of punishment detail. Hard (wandless) labour. Filch was almost dancing in sadistic glee. _Damn._

"Don't worry mates," Sirius tried to cheer his three friends, ignoring McGonagall's jeremiad on how they had disgraced Hogwarts in front of the other schools and the entire wizarding world. Up on the wall, the green Slytherin crystals and red Gryffindor crystals points counters were both at zero. "At least those slimy snakes are stuck in the gulag too. And it will give us plenty of time to plot an appropriately horrendous revenge, True Marauder Style™. We can play the long game – they ain't goin' nowhere nohow."

But Sirius was wrong. For the next day, Slytherin House ceased to exist.

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Nobody in the Gryffindor rank and file noticed anything at first. Sure, the Slytherin table was looking a little emptier that morning. Okay, a lot emptier. Okay, only Snape, Bellatrix, Narcissa, Regulus, and several firsties and secondies turned up for breakfast. And lunch. And dinner. And breakfast the next day. But that was no doubt some sort of sneaky snakey scheme to catch them off guard, and the noble and righteous Gryffs were too clever to fall for _that_ , no siree.

And yet the missing students were also missing from their classes. The teachers refused to answer any questions on the subject, brusquely redirecting the class's attention whenever someone was bold enough to query it out loud. The Prefects and Head Boy and Girl (as well as the remaining Slytherin students) were similarly tight-lipped, and were always away in meetings. The portraits and ghosts seemed unusually active, moving rapidly from frame to frame, or floating back and forth along the corridors.

Then the brave House of the Lion began to realise that the disappearances were not limited to Slytherin. The entire Durmstrang contingent stopped turning up to their dorms in Gryffindor Tower, except for single dark-haired seventh-year girl who'd never spoken a word to anyone. She was now the sole representative of her school. Seven Koldovstoretz students were among the missing, as were a dozen Ravenclaws. The Gryffs might have noticed sooner had the Durmstrang or Koldovstoretz students ever bothered to socialise with them. Instead they had been cold and aloof to a person since day one, as if they'd been ordered by their schools to have no association with the Lions. Which, given the reputations of said schools, they may well have.

This puzzling state of affairs continued for several more days. Finally, on the seventh day after the disappearance, the Aurors arrived and searched every inch of the castle. Expeditions were sent out into the Forbidden Forest, and into the murky depths of the Black Lake. On the thirteenth day, the Aurors began questioning students.

At least their daily punishment of scraping mould off the castle walls with small, easily-breakable trowels kept them busy and worn out. At least this new Slytherin et al situation distracted James from his resentments. At least the absence of Lily from their daily routine didn't shove his convoluted relationship with her in everyone else's faces. These factors combined to keep the animosity to a low simmer. James and Peter were still not on speaking terms, but at least the Marauders could hold group conversations and planning sessions without the risk of degenerating into fisticuffs or hexes. On the fourteenth day, they were summoned for their formal interrogation.

"Wonder what took them so long to start investigating," Harry pondered idly to himself as the foursome lounged near the gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's office, waiting for their turn to have a 'chat' with the nice people from the DMLE.

 _Then again, I don't know why I'm so surprised. The Aurors never bothered to help keep Hogwarts safe in the past – future – either. All those students dropping like flies to the basilisk for months. Even when Ginny, the daughter of a Department Director at the Ministry no less, was kidnapped, the DMLE didn't bother to intervene. The faculty just decided to give up and close the school. And no Aurors posted when they were hunting Sirius; nope, just send a cavalcade of unsupervised soul-sucking Dementors to float around randomly. Is the Ministry banned from operating here by treaty or something? No, that can't be right, otherwise they wouldn't be able to be here now. Guess it makes a difference if dozens of purebloods are kidnapped, rather than just one. Or maybe it just takes an International Incident._

"Probably because they know the missing are still alive," James murmured, clearly too distracted to realise who'd asked the question. "All sorts of ways to monitor that sort of thing – family tapestries, life crystals, self-updating official documents. Ministry and Gringotts need to know who's alive and who's not."

"Family clocks," Harry added, remembering Mrs Weasley's prized clock.

"Never mind that – the real question is, why couldn't Snivellus be one of the missing?" Sirius complained. "If any of those slimy snakes deserved to vanish off the face of the earth, it was him. Or my crazy bitch of a cousin. But I guess Fate doesn't love me enough for that! Even after all I do for Her ... No matter. Dya reckon if we 'disappeared' Greaseball ourselves anyone would notice? Moony, I could 'accidentally' let slip to him not to go visit the Shrieking Shack on the night of the next full moon…"

Remus jerked upright in alarm. "Don't you dare!" he hissed, "Don't you even think about it! Not even as a joke!" His eyes narrowed. "I mean it, Padfoot!" he growled as he advanced menacingly, "Or so help me I'll –"

"Hem hem." The four spun around. The gargoyle had moved aside, revealing the stairwell to Dumbledore's seat of power. Professor McGonagall tapped her foot impatiently. Her face seemed even more pinched than usual. "If you're _quite_ finished with your foolishness," she snapped tightly, "the Aurors are ready to see you now." They sheepishly shuffled up the stairs and into the office, the Deputy Headmistress taking the rear.

Harry was mildly surprised that he recognised the people gathered around Dumbledore's great desk: Alastor Moody, with two natural brown eyes in his head and two natural legs sprouting from his torso – _still has all those hideous scars though_ – grinned manically at their arrival. Rufus Scrimgeour, with his leonine mane and the markings of an Auror Captain on his chest and shoulders. Robards, Dawlish and Proudfoot standing to the side in the uniform of second-year trainees.

He spotted the vials of Veritaserum on the Headmaster's desk.

 _Oh boy, this is going to be fun, said the Otter sarcastically._

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The Marauders decided to hit the kitchens for an after-interrogation recovery snack. Mindful of his excessive weight, Harry begged off in favour of going to back to Gryffindor Tower and getting some extra sleep. The aftereffects of Veritaserum made him feel extremely weary.

The Aurors had been extremely 'motivated' (i.e., gung-ho) about pumping the four students with the truth potion until their pores had leaked it. Fortunately, James had kicked up a hell of a stink about minors being compelled to be questioned under Veritaserum without their guardians present. Scrimgeour had tried to demur, but James had been insistent, and, backed by the rest of the Marauders, and Dumbledore and McGonagall, the Auror had finally relented and allowed Floo calls to be made. Which resulted in a ticked-off Charlus Potter overseeing the interrogation to ensure the questions stuck to point, and didn't wander off into other areas the DMLE may be interested in that were unrelated to the matter at hand. Even more fortunately, none of the boys had any idea what had happened to the missing students, so it turned out to be quite a brief session. Harry couldn't help but feel the glow of schadenfreude at how palpable the Aurors' disappointment was. They'd obviously been convinced of the Marauders' guilt – not an entirely unreasonable assumption, Harry was forced to admit, given the well-known and long-running rivalry between themselves and the House of Snakes.

Entering his dorm, he was surprised to see himself already lying on his bed. "Hmmm I must tireder that I thought."

"You're not dreaming, you twonk," the other Peter drawled, opening his eyes.

"You're me?" Harry blinked stupidly.

"I'm not Santa Claus," Peter replied. "Though I may rival him in weight."

"And why are you taking up my valuable bed space?"

"I'm here to tell you that it's time."

"It's time?" he asked.

"It's time," he agreed.

"It's time?"

"It's Time."

"It's Time?"

"It's Time."

"It's – what is it time for?"

"Time to deal with the Slytherins and the rest of the Death Nibblers-in-training, of course!" Future-Peter exclaimed impatiently.

"That was me?"

"Was there ever any doubt?" he demanded. "Does anyone else in this school have the cojones to do what's necessary? Is Dumbledore going to lift a finger to prevent the Knights of Walpurgis from riding roughshod over everyone else, and recruiting another generation of murderous psychopaths?"

"Dumbledore …"

"… and the Hogwarts faculty are giving Voldie's future army their basic training. Awfully nice of them to build up their enemies' forces," Future-Peter finished sardonically.

"That's not fair," Harry objected. "Dumbledore's a teacher, and the Headmaster to boot! He can't play favourites, and he can't just turf people out of school because they have sympathy for the Dark Tosser and _may_ go rotten at some point in the future."

His counterpart smirked. "He can't. But we can."

"I suppose you've got a point there," Harry admitted.

"Of course I do. I'm from the future. I know about things like this."

"And how am I going to do it?"

"With magic, duh."

"But it all happened weeks ago!"

"Yes."

"But – ah. Time turner."

"Give the man a cigar," Future-Peter cheered. "400 turns should do it."

"Where am I supposed to get ahold of a time turner?! I'm pretty sure the Department of Mysteries is sealed up tight right now 'coz of the Death Eater threat. There's no way I'll be able to get in."

"I'm sure you'll think of something," he replied smugly.

"Can't this wait until I've had some sleep?" Harry grumbled.

"No," Peter said firmly. "You need to hurry. The others will be arriving here soon. You have to be gone by then."

"Can't you give me any hints, at least?"

Peter pondered for a moment. "Grab the Invisibility Cloak and the Map," he nodded towards James' trunk, "and bring Ron down to the Chamber."

"The Chamber of Secrets?" Harry asked, rummaging around in the trunk. He felt a bit bad to be going through his father's things behind his back like this.

"No, the chamber pot of Godric Gryffindor. Of course the Chamber of Secrets!"

Harry triumphantly located the Cloak and the Marauders' Map. Pulling the trunk's lid shut, he suddenly froze as he could hear voices approaching.

"We're out of time!" hissed Peter. "Get going!"

Throwing the Cloak over himself, Harry pressed himself against the wall as the other three came in.

"I saved you something," Remus commented, tossing him a large hunk of beef jerky.

"Thanks mate," Peter grabbed it and started gnawing in his rat-like way.

As the friends bantered and prepared for bed, Harry slipped out of the room and made his way to the second floor. Taking refuge in an empty classroom he called out, "Kreacher!" The surly elf appeared, glaring at him with loathing. "Take this note to Gilderoy Lockhart immediately! Give it to nobody but him, and don't let anyone else see you! Go now," handing the parchment to the elf.

Eight and a half minutes later, Lockhart rushed into the room. "Harry!" he hissed.

"Peter, remember." Harry's head appeared out of nowhere. "Hop inside."

"You got your Invisibility Cloak back," Ron crowed. "Brilliant!" He ducked underneath.

"Only borrowing it for the moment. We need to go back in time and take care of the Slytherin problem."

"That was us?"

"Can you think of anyone else who'd be so audacious?"

Ron grinned. "Guess not. So we're going to fulfil the dream of every Gryffindor who's ever inhabited this castle – sign me up! You got a time turner then?"

"No," Harry admitted. "That's the first thing we need to do."

"Time room at the DoM?"

"I can't imagine it'd be as easy as last time to infiltrate. Not in a state of war, with Barty Crouch manning the battlements."

"Pity Hermione isn't here. We could've used hers."

"Yeah … yeah. Hey, you don't suppose they've done it before?"

"Done what?"

"Given out time turners to bright young students so they can attend more classes?"

"Risk the fabric of time and space so a bunch of swots can swot even harder? Of course they must have! It'd be far too sensible just to schedule all the classes so that it's possible to attend them all without time travel."

Harry laughed. "Ron Weasley being the sensible one? The world really has gone mad!"

"Shut it you!" Ron gave him a good-natured shove.

"So the question is, who would be the most likely person they'd give one too?"

"Your question answers itself: who's the brightest student in school?" They looked at each other. Ron started laughing. "Ooooh she's gonna be _even more_ pissed at you if she ever finds out!"

"Kreacher," Harry sighed. With a pop the hateful elf was back.

"Disgusting fat master has another worthless errand for Kreacher?" he sneered.

"Yes – go to the Head Girl's room. Search the whole place and see if there's a time turner hidden away somewhere. Do you know what a time turner is?" The elf reluctantly nodded. "Good. If you can't find it in the room, search her person, but only if she's asleep or unconscious. Do not, under ANY circumstances let her (or anyone else) know that you've searched the room or taken her belongings. Go there immediately, and if you find it, bring it back here at once. Do not talk to anyone, do not be seen by anyone, do not leave any signs that you were ever there. Go!"

Harry ran a hand through his thin mousy hair. "Ugh, dealing with that creature is so tiresome."

"Better you than me, mate."

"At least I never spent three years sleeping in a bed with a grown man!"

Ron blanched. "That was below the belt, mate."

A pop. Kreacher had returned. "Kreacher has stolen time turney machine for filthy rat master," he sniffed.

"Thankyou. You may go now." The elf didn't hesitate. "The other me said 400 should do the trick."

"Blimey that's a lot!"

"Then you'd best not make me lose count, eh Mr Lockhart?"

"Fine – but let's sit down before you start. I'm not imitating a mannequin for two hours while you tick away." They sat on the nearest desk. Harry threw the chain around both of their necks and started turning the dial. "One … two … three …"

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"I think the coast is clear," Ron hissed. "No Myrtle in sight!"

The two of them crept into the girls' bathroom under the Cloak.

"Let me try," suggested Ron. "I want to see if I still remember how to do this." Focusing on the sink, he cleared his throat and hissed, _§Open!§_ It was a passable attempt at Parseltongue. Passable enough that the sink sank softly into the ground and the passage to the Chamber of Secrets opened. "Yes! Still got it!" he preened.

"Well done; if I ever get incapacitated, you'll still be able to get in and out of this place."

"That's assuming you can even do it yourself. Have you tried talking to a snake since you lost that piece of ol' Snakeface's soul in your head?" That gave Harry pause. No he hadn't.

 _That's a good point, the Otter pondered. It's possible with the loss of the horcrux you're no longer a Parselmouth. In which case, you may have a bit of a problem with the gigantic snake you're about to encounter._

Fortunately the cave-in from last time obviously hadn't occurred yet, so the passageway was clear to the great gate to the Chamber proper. Harry approached and straightened his shoulders. Time for the moment of truth: he opened his mouth, and –

Ron clapped his hand over Harry's mouth. "Wait a tic! We haven't talked about what we're going to do about the giant bloody basilisk that lives on the other side of that door! Don't you think we should have a plan, Mr Reckless?"

"Oh yeah."

"What are we going to do with you, Harry?"

After a brief planning session, the friends were finally confident of success. Harry once again faced the great snake gate. Focusing on the serpents, he saw in his mind's eye _Nagini uncoiling herself and standing upright. Her hood flared and her eyes gleamed. Opening her jaws, she launched forward and_

 _§Open!§_

Add one more checkmark in the 'Things Dumbledore was wrong about' column …

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It turned out to be surprisingly easy to deal with the basilisk: she was trained to obey any Parselmouth, since that was the sign of a true descendent of Salazar Slytherin. At Harry's request she kept her eyes tightly shut at all times. Being used to living in total darkness and moving by smell and touch alone, this was no great burden for her. It turned out her name was the same as her original master, Salazar. Odd name for a female but there you go.

Without Riddle around to order the basilisk to attack people, Salazar was fairly pleasant company. Extremely indolent, sarcastic and absentminded, but pleasant. So almost exactly like every other snake Harry had ever encountered.

 _I am not lazy! Nagini hissed angrily._

Salazar, aka Sallie, informed Harry of a secret passage leading into the Forbidden Forest, that was used in olden days to allow her out to hunt. Harry opened the entranceway and sent her to consume every Acromantula she could get her enormous jaws around. Unicorns and centaurs were strictly off-limits and to be avoided.

 _Feeling a bit vindictive over what happened to your precious Lily-flower? smirked the Otter._

 _Shut up! Harry snapped defensively. I don't care how much Hagrid loves his cute, fluffy pets, those monsters are a menace!_

"First order of business," announced Harry, "is to get ourselves settled in. By my calculations, we've a little over a fortnight to spend in here, so we may as well make ourselves comfortable. Ron, I'm delegating that task to you."

"What, you mean like decorating?"

"I mean like organising furniture, beds, clothes, clearing out the dirt and grime, exploring the extent of the Chamber, finding out if there's anything here we can use: libraries, pools, potions labs, etc." Ron was dubious. "It'll also give you a chance to practice your transfiguration. Remember what McGonagall said about your last test!"

"And what exactly will you be doing in the meantime?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"Trying to find a way to corral a horde of Dark Wizard wannabes into one place without getting killed!" Ron still looked unconvinced. "Kreacher!" The elf appeared. "This is Gilderoy Lockhart, you must obey him as you would me, unless his orders contradict mine. Do you understand?" Kreacher snarled, but nodded. Harry continued (mindful of Nagini's advice), "Good. My first instruction is to bring us proper food, clothes and furniture as befits a Lord of House Black: including beds, wardrobes, pyjamas, toothbrushes, and so forth. Also a book on hairstyles and haircutting charms. Once all the necessities are set up, you will start cleaning this place from top to bottom. It hasn't been touched in a thousand years, so I'm sure you'll be ecstatic at all the work that needs to be done!" He turned to Ron. "There you go, all set. Go wild! I look forward to seeing what you come up with. _§Bye for now, Salazar!§_ " And with that he grabbed the Invisibility Cloak and left.

"I'm gonna murder him."

"Kreacher would help blood-traitor do so if he could."

Ron and Kreacher looked at each other.

"So, d'ya ever hear the one about the troll, the hag, and the leprechaun who go into a bar …" Ron offered.

Kreacher pointedly turned his back on the boy and started examining the Chamber.

"This is going to be a barrelful of laughs," Ron sighed in resignation.

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After spending a day observing the Slytherins' movements with the Marauder's Map, Harry reached a conclusion: they were too disparate and random a bunch to ever hope to get together in one place (that wasn't the Slytherin common room). And that wasn't even including all the Ravenclaws, Durmstrangers and Koldovstoretzers that were due to go missing. Heck, he didn't even know which ones were Voldie supporters and which were not! How in the name of Godric's gizzard was he supposed to make them all appear in one location and then get the drop on the lot of them? He couldn't see a way to do it without suffering severe injury. Harry sighed. _Guess I'll just have to nab them one by one. Except that could take days and days to finish. Someone would definitely notice and take action after the first two or three vanished. And everyone disappeared in one night!_

"Argh!" he ran his hands through his hair in frustration. Then he stood up to stretch and look out over the grounds. He was currently hiding out on top of the Astronomy Tower. The place was deserted this time of day, so he'd eschewed the Cloak for now. "What am I going to do?"

"You're overthinking things again."

Harry looked around sharply.

On the battlements behind him, legs swinging back and forth insouciantly, sat a familiar-looking redheaded girl. He recognised her as the one who'd winked at him in the corridor after the Welcoming Feast.

"Uh, wah?" he asked articulately.

"I mean, you're forgetting the simplest way of going about this. Stop trying so hard, and make your enemies do the work for you," she chirped brightly.

Harry stared at her in shock, desperately racking his brains and the scraps of Pettigrew's memories to find out who this person was and what did she mean? She couldn't possibly be talking about what it sounded like.

 _Never seen her before, mate, the Dormouse piped up, then again my thoughts aren't what they used to be, so maybe …?_

 _Otter said, nope me neither._

 _The Grim, Lynx and Owl shook their heads._

 _Nagini slept peacefully._

A close examination of the girl yielded few clues. She was a fourthie by the look of her, and wore a Gryffindor tie and red-lined robes, but so far he'd been too busy this school year to bother getting to know anyone outside of his immediate group. Focusing on her features, long red hair tied back in a neat braid, warm chocolate eyes, cute button nose, cheeky smirk, he was again stuck by a sense of familiarity. Maybe she was related to the Prewetts or the Weasleys. But her freckleless skin would seem to argue against that.

Harry was suddenly struck by an awful thought, was this Ron's dreaded Aunt Muriel? The thought that that terrifying and redoubtable old battleaxe could ever have been this young, and this seemingly friendly, was unnerving. What was even more unnerving was her familiarity with him. They were obviously close in some way. But – a 16-year old Peter Pettigrew-the-traitor and an 14-year old Muriel Prewett-the-harridan? Could such a perverse and horrifying pairing ever exist without destroying the fabric of the universe? _The horror, the horror._

'Muriel' however, growing impatient with his long silence, hopped down to the ground and strode up to him, almost nose to nose. It was a sad indictment on his current body that his nose was only an inch higher than that of a fourth-year girl.

"Well?" she demanded. "What do you say?"

"Um …"

She rolled her eyes in exasperation at his doltishness. "Morgana's mittens, how do you even manage to get out of bed and eat breakfast in the mornings without someone to hold your hand the whole way? This is the _third time_ now."

"What do you mean, third time?"

"The third time I have to pull your chestnuts outta the fire."

"What were the other two times?" he asked curiously. Now was his chance to get some useful information.

"You know, the time you fell into the toilet on the Express, and when you and the other one when you and Red almost become spider-chow in the Forest," she retorted with a trace of impatience.

"Wait, that was _you_ in the Forest? And on the train?" Harry said in astonishment.

She nodded.

"But how did you know where I was and what I was doing? And why are you helping me?"

A mischievous smile graced her pouty lips, but the girl didn't answer. Instead she grabbed his arm and steered him down the stairs.

"We don't have much time," she said as she hustled him along. "The Two Stooges will be heading to the Greenhouses by now."

"Who? Why?"

"The Lestrange brothers of course. It's the only time we can get them alone."

"No, I mean, why are they going there all by themselves in the first place? And why are we going after them?"

"To help themselves to potions ingredients on the sly. Probably to make poisons and for other slimy snakey purposes. And to answer your second question, so you can complete you mission, duh!"

"How do you know about that?!" Harry demanded, feeling cold in the pit of his stomach. Had he and Ron been compromised already? Had somebody stuck listening charms or tracking charms on either one of them? He would have to check them both thoroughly.

"That's not important, what _is_ important is that they can tell you how the Dark Tosser communicates with his lickspittles here at Hogwarts."

"And they're just going to 'fess up to us are they?" he said sarcastically.

"Sure they will. With the right motivation." She extracted a small vial of crystal-clear liquid from her pocket.

Harry's eyebrows raised. "Veritaserum? Where exactly did you get a Ministry-controlled substance from?"

"Nicked it," she said cheekily, thrusting it into his hand. By this point they'd reached Greenhouse Five. Pushing him down onto one of the outside benches, the girl plopped down onto Harry's lap and urged him to wrap them in his Cloak. Not a moment too soon, as the sound of footsteps approached. It was indeed Rudolphus and Rastaban Lestrange who slipped into the Greenhouse, after furtively checking that nobody else was around.

'Muriel' hopped off his lap and carefully crept to the entrance, making sure to stay lower than the windows. Pulling something small out of her pocket, she eased the door open a fraction, then tossed the object into the room and dived out of the way. The Greenhouse was filled with a bright red flash.

"And that's the end of that chapter," she announced, flicking her braid back over her shoulder with a satisfied air. Dragging the invisible Harry into the Greenhouse, she firmly closed the door and approached two unconscious Slytherins. "Now we can get to work."

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˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ ….

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It was long past curfew by the time Harry returned to the mysterious Chamber of Secrets. Opening the main gate, he blanched at the horrific sight that met his eyes as the giant and ominous metal door rolled aside.

Ron had clearly taken Harry at his word, for the enormous chamber had been completely remodelled since the morning. The walls and ceiling were now a hideous neon orange colour. The stone floor was painted a tasteless browny-beige that clashed horribly with the rest of the room. The walls were covered with Chudley Cannons posters and banners, interspersed with posters of league tables and photographs of famous players. Towering over all, the huge and chilling granite statute of Salazar Slytherin that sneered down at them had somehow been transfigured, so that the legendary Founder was now wearing a Cannons scarf, sporting a Cannons logo on his breast, and holding a Cannons flag. Even the flaming torches had shifted from their eerie green eldritch luminescence to an obnoxious orange.

The furniture was little better. Beds, wardrobes and wizarding shower stalls in the 'finest' Art Deco styles were arranged in some arcane pattern that eluded Harry's understanding. Faux-marble statues of cavorting nymphs, proud centaurs, and chthonic tentacle monsters rounded out the furnishings.

As he witnessed the orange monstrosity that the fabled chamber of muggles' doom had become, he wondered for the first time if maybe, just maybe, they had finally crossed the line and gone too far in their war against Voldemort.

"You sure took ya time!" Ron exclaimed as he stepped out of his shower stall, clad in an official Cannons-endorsed towel. He flicked his damp, lustrous golden locks out of his eyes.

"Um, yeah. I've been busy. And so have you, by the looks of things. Been doing a bit of shopping have we?"

"Yep, Kreacher was a big help! Must've bought up half the things for sale in Diagon and Knockturn alley with a possible side trip to Hogsmeade! Little guy's an amazingly good shopper. Then he helped me organise all the furniture and decorations. He's going to make someone a very happy husband one day. Pity he's such a revolting pillock."

"And how much have the two of you set me back?"

Ron shrugged cheerfully as he threw on a Cannons official shirt over his broad muscular chest. "Do you really care? It's a better use of House Black's gold than buying dark artefacts and muggle slaves."

"Point."

"So what do you think of the décor?" He waved a hand expansively.

"I think the Secret behind Salazar's choice of colour palette has been solved," Harry commented sardonically. "But this is sure going to mystify some wizarding archaeologist a few hundred years from now."

Ron shrugged, not being able to dredge up any concern for wizarding nerds who'd exist long after he was gone. "The paint job's not done yet. It's going to take the self-painting brushes a week or two to finish, since there's only 20 of them. This is only the base level; it'll need a few days to dry before we can add the second, third and fourth layers of paint. But it's worth it; once done, the colours will be even more bright and vibrant, and the paint tins say that if done properly, it'll last for a thousand years!"

"Is that so?" he commented in dread.

"I'm paggered," Ron announced, dropping onto his bed dramatically. "Transfiguring that bloody statue all day has worn me out."

"It _is_ an impressive feat of magic," Harry admitted. Aesthetically displeasing, but impressive nonetheless. He walked over to what he assumed was his wardrobe and looked inside for some nightwear. "What is this?!" The entire wardrobe was filled with midnight-black clothing; robes, dragonhide armour, leather boots, top hats, formal shirts and vests. The family crest was sewn or embossed onto everything. He picked up a satin shirt to examine.

"Your fault – you did order Kreacher to get you clothes befitting a Lord of the House of Black," Ron sniggered.

"I'm gonna look like a bloody vampire," Harry grumbled, eyeing the shimmering material. "One that sparkles, no less." Closing the door, he got down to business. "I need your help, if you can manage it. I've got a couple things I need obliviated." He pulled two white balls of fluff out of his pocket.

"Don't tell me that's…"

"The amazing bouncing albino ferrets!" Harry laughed. With a swish of his wand, they transfigured back into a slumbering Rudolphus and Rastaban.

"What happened?"

"Interrogated them," he said casually. "But now we've got to erase their memories of the last few hours and leave them somewhere."

"I know! Let's draw all over their skin with permanent markers and then stick them to the ceiling outside the Slytherin common room in their underwear! That way everyone will think it was an ordinary prank, and nobody will suspect what we're really up to."

"That's brilliant, Ron! I've got their wands here too."

"Snap 'em and put 'em in their underwear. Their daddies can afford new ones."

"Let's get started. Sooner we're done the sooner we can rest. I'm feeling a bit sleepy myself. Kreacher! Fetch me some permanent markers!"

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˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ ….

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"So what's the deal with this girl?" Ron asked, as they completed their artistic endeavour.

"Dunno; she disappeared off somewhere while I was interrogating Cheech and Chong. Didn't have a chance to ask her name."

"What did Marauders' Map say?"

"I … damn, I'm such a twonk!" Harry kicked himself for his stupidity. He pulled the Map out and scanned it, as if he could divine the girl's identity hours after the fact. But he was too late. The Map showed nobody else in the entire area.

Ron just shook his head in pity. "You like her."

"Do not!"

"Yes you do. You spent the afternoon with her, broke a whole bunch of school rules and laws with her, and when she won't tell you her name, you just let it go!"

"I –"

"You see, you've always had a huge weakness for two types of girls: redheads and Asians," Ron lectured. "Veela too, I guess, judging by the way you and Fleur were mooning at each other during the Triwiz."

"That never happened! You were just being an insufferable jealous prat!"

"And now," Ron continued as if he hadn't heard Harry's objection, "the first redhead who comes along that _doesn't_ treat you like dirt, and you're putty in her hands! Guess you'll have to go tell your Mum you're breaking up with her."

"Aargh! Stop saying things like that!"

"'S only the truth."

"That's a pretty harsh thing to say to someone who slept in your bed with you for three years!"

"Argh! Fine! Truce?"

"Truce."

"So have you figured out how she knew what we were doing?"

"No; I checked and double-checked every item we have. There isn't a listening charm or tracking charm on anything."

"Unless it's something we can't detect …"

"Yeah," Harry conceded uncomfortably.

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	11. 9 In-A Garden of Slytherin, Baby

**Author's Note:**

This is a continuation/soft reboot of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse, with a bunch of changes. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" by Rorschach's Blot. Both are used with the permission of their original authors. The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter, Alice in Wonderland, Anchorman, Austin Powers, Avatar: the Last Airbender, Blackadder, The Barber of Seville, the Bible, Discworld, Dragonball Z, Evil Dead, How It Should Have Ended, Farscape, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Futurama, Game of Thrones, Inglourious Basterds, Great Expectations, Heart of Darkness, Indiana Jones, Inuyasha, Keeping Up Appearances, Lolita, The Lone Ranger, The Marriage of Figaro, Mazes and Monsters, Monkey Island, Monte Python, Naruto, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Pinky and the Brain, Pokémon, Popeye, Ranma ½, Red Dwarf, Robot Chicken, The Simpsons, Snakes on a Plane, South Park, Star Trek, Star Wars, Terminator 2, The Thousand and One Nights, Troll 2, Tomb Raider, Yes Prime Minister, White Chicks, and the works of Edgar Allen Poe, HP Lovecraft, Roald Dahl, Shakespeare, or anyone else.

Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.

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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "Harry Potter and the Power of Paranoia" by arekay.

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 **Chapter 9 – In-A Garden of Slytherin, Baby**

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In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught. In a world of thieves, the only final sin is stupidity.

― _Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas_

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An undercurrent of excitement ran through Slytherin House.

The Lestrange brothers were in an absolute fury at being pranked in such a humiliating way – and then being discovered by a clutch of third year girls who were also amateur photographers. To make matters worse, they were then publicly defeated by the Marauders at the Battle of Hogwarts. But their rage was quickly stifled by the latest missive from their Lord. Such was the anticipation that this message generated that all plots for devastating revenge on the Marauders were tabled for the time being. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had ordered them to put out the word that all his loyal followers should sound out everyone in the school (including the foreigners) who may be sympathetic to his aims, and desired the destruction of the mudbloods who were poisoning their country and culture.

All followers and interested parties must gather in the Forbidden Forest after curfew two nights from now, near the rocky outcropping by the south wing of Hogwarts. The Knights of Walpurgis's networking machine swung into action. Discreet queries went out along the grapevines. The letter explicitly forbade them from including blood-traitors such as Bellatrix, Regulus, Narcissa and Sirius Black, Severus Snape, Amelia Bones, James Potter, Frank Longbottom, Alice and Marlene McKinnon, Pandora Lovegood, Gilderoy Lockhart or Peter Pettigrew. But any other upstanding pureblood or halfblood who was interested was fair game.

When the big night arrived, all participants were thrilled with the number that had turned out. Most of Slytherin, Durmstrang and Koldovstoretz were present, as was a large chunk of Ravenclaw. Satisfied that the best and brightest of their generation were part of their cohort, the students made their way under cover of darkness to the rendezvous point. The autumn chill was cool enough that their breath was visible in the air, and many gripped their fur-lined cloaks more tightly around their bodies.

Suddenly, the rocky outcropping seemed to shiver, and then slowly opened to reveal an entrance to a dark tunnel. A figure, features obscured by a midnight-black cloak and hood, stood in the middle of the passage. All could feel the powerful magical aura that emanated from it.

"Welcome my children. You are truly the faithful onesssssss, and the faithful ssssshall sssssee the future!"

The snakelike sibilance of the person's voice caused even the bravest amongst them to shiver in fear and anticipation.

"As a test of your bravery, and reward for your loyalty, I welcome you to Sssalazar Ssslytherin'ssss Chamber of Sssecretssss! Follow me, if you dare …"

The crowd gasped. Could it be true?

Slowly the bravest made their way to follow the retreating Man in Black. Then more. And then more, until finally the entire contingent had screwed their courage to the sticking-plate and crept inside. Once the last person had entered, the doorway gave a quiet rumble, and slid closed.

A long walk down a pitch-black tunnel brought the group to the mythic Chamber of the legendary Darkest of Dark Wizards. The Inner Sanctum of the Merlin of Blood-Purity. The sinister Fortress of Doom for all muggles and their filth-ridden progeny.

It was certainly a lot more … _colourful_ than they'd imagined.

Their guide stopped in front of a giant statue of Salazar Slytherin, who had been painted orange and appeared to be waving a flag of some sort.

"I mussst sssay, I am certainly extremely gratified that sssso many proud purebloods are ssso willing to bend the knee to a mere halfblood."

He threw back his hood, and the proud purebloods were astounded to see revealed the doltish fat face of the wretched halfblood Peter Pettigrew.

"You know, my friend was right: the simplest methods are often the best. And you can't get any simpler than you lot." He grinned insouciantly. "Quite amazing when you think about it. I mean, there I was with nothing but a wand and a thimbleful of Veritaserum, and dear Rudolphus and Rastaban were all too willing to explain exactly how the Dark Tosser leaves messages for the Knights of Walpurgis. A message transported into a mailbox hidden in the Slytherin common room? Really? That's the limit of your security? Not even written in code?" He shook his head in pity. There were confused mutterings, and a lot of furious glares aimed a sheepish pair of brothers. "They were even kind enough to proof-read my poor attempts at forgery, just to ensure that extra pinch of authenticity. Naturally, it was a piece of pumpkin pie to have my elf leave the note for you to find, and to so kindly and conveniently deliver yourselves into my clutches. Kreacher, now!"

The house elf suddenly appeared in front of him and snapped his fingers. The group of purebloods were suddenly hurled in all directions, tumbling over furniture or slamming into walls.

 _§Ssssspeak to me, Ssssalazar Sssslytherin, greatessst of the Hogwartsss Four!§_

The furious assemblage sprang into action, drawing their wands and taking duelling stances. Until they froze in shock as the hidden door opened and out sprang a 50-foot basilisk, in a manner not unlike a muggle jack-in-the-box. Those frozen in shock quickly became frozen in stark, robe-soiling terror, followed by becoming frozen from the monstrous serpent's gaze. Even more unexpected than the dramatic appearance of a fabled beast of yore, was the fact it was wearing a giant pair of thick muggle-style glasses, as well as a fake Groucho Marx nose and moustache.

Harry shut his eyes firmly as soon as he heard the rumbling of the statute's gate opening. His rodent-enhanced sensitivity alerted him to incoming magic, and he dived blindly to the side, dropping to the floor. He heard the hisses, snaps, fizzles and pops of hexes shooting around him.

Presently, the cacophony of spells and screams of terror quieted. Still lying prone on the floor he called out, _§Sallie! Is it done?§_

 _§Yessssssss, sssson of Sssssslytherin. The humansssss are all quiet now.§_

 _§Thankyou my dear. Pleassse clossse your eyesssss again, I wish to look around.§_

 _§Asss you wisssh,§_ the serpent hissed.

Harry cautiously peeked out from behind the now-shredded statue of Larry the Lascivious and his nine succubi. They'd done it! The entire contigent of Dark Tosser supporters were still as ice. "Clear!" he shouted, once satisfied that not a one was moving even a little.

"Did the glasses work?" asked Ron, emerging from behind a pillar. He held several vials of mandrake Restorative Draught, in case Harry was accidentally petrified too.

"Perfectly. Seeing Sallie's eyes through glass instead of directly only petrified our little friends. Nobody's turned to stone."

"Awesome," cheered Ron. "I can't believe that worked! You make a pretty intimidating Dark Lord, mate!"

"Thanks," said Harry dryly. "Was the nose and moustache really necessary?"

"Absolutely," Ron replied, rubbing the giant creature on the tip of her snout underneath the fake nose, until she started making the low gargling-hissing-rumbling sound that was the basilisk equivalent of purring. "You look very fetching, don't you, you gorgeous lady."

"I knew it was a bad idea for Hermione to show you all those old muggle comedies."

"I think the results speak for themselves," Ron retorted loftily, moving his hand down to scratch Sallie under the chin. The serpent twisted upside-down so that he could reach her sensitive underbelly more easily.

 _And after all the grief he gave Hermione for pampering Crookshanks, the Otter commented in amusement. If only she could see him now._

"Grown quite fond of each other, I see," Harry observed.

"What's not to like? She chases away spiders and petrifies slimy Slytherins. Speaking of which, what do we do with 'em?" Ron queried, pointing to the students now literally frozen in terror.

"Now we leave them here to cool their heels for a few decades. Maybe in the future after Riddle and all other dark lords are long gone and muggleborn and magical creatures have equal rights, we'll thaw them out and let them adjust to the new reality."

"They may be in for a long wait. If that's the case, we may as well do something with them instead of leaving them all tumbled together like someone's dropped a sack of potatoes."

With that, Ron began to levitate the petrified students and place them in specific locations around the Chamber. Sometimes to fill an empty bit of space, sometimes to enhance the look of a particular piece of furniture, sometimes to make it look as if they were gathered together admiring one of the many pieces of Cannons memorabilia or statues of creatures. Harry thought that the finished product made the Chamber seem like a still photo of some bizarre garden party.

"There we go," Ron said in satisfaction, as the last frozen student was put in their spot. "A place for everything, and everything in its place. Just like the Garden of Eden."

"How so?"

"The Garden of Eden is full of snakes too, innit?"

"Uh, I think there was only one snake, Ron."

"I remember what Hermione told me _perfectly_. And she said the Garden of Eden had lots and lots of snakes, whole broods of vipers," Ron replied stubbornly.

Harry imagined a naked Adam and Eve, sitting on the grass enjoying an assortment of fruit while thousands and thousands of snakes swarmed all over their bodies, their food, the grass and the trees. He shuddered and quickly put that thought out of his mind.

 _Ssssounds like Paradise to me, commented Nagini._

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Harry had worried that they might suffer cabin fever within a couple of days down in the Chamber with nobody but themselves, Sallie, Kreacher and a host of petrified Death Nibblers staring at their every move with their dead eyes. Fortunately, his concerns proved unfounded.

Kreacher had immediately been sent to gather up all the belongings of their 'guests' and bring them to the Chamber that first night. They debated whether or not to have the elf leave notes in the students' rooms announcing that they were running away to join the Dark Lord. Eventually they decided it would be more puzzling for the authorities if the students simply vanished without a word. Ron and Harry spent a good two days sorting through all the stuff, looking for useful items. There was certainly an impressive collection of dark artefacts. Lots of quills, parchment, school books, diaries and other mundane items that weren't worth bothering with. The wands were immediately snapped and left in a barrel for kindling. There was the odd trinket that looked valuable or was enchanted in an interesting way. Nothing but the gold could be used in the near future however, given the risk that someone might recognise the objects if they were seen in public or found on their persons.

The two of them continued their Occlumency practice, Ron adding Legilimency, obliviation and compulsion charms to his regime. He had picked up a good chunk of the former Gilderoy's brilliance at mind magics of all sorts (particularly obliviation and compulsion magics). Harry tried once more to learn these very useful skills, but again proved his complete worthlessness at the Mind Arts.

Ron and Kreacher continued their cleaning of centuries of accumulated dust. Occasionally Harry and Ron would transfigure the large piles of dust into bunnies, and chase them around the room, or vice versa. They reminded Harry of the Snuggle-bunnies he and Lily had unwittingly unleashed on Hogwarts in the first week, though far smaller and cuter.

They had Kreacher purchase and set up weights and other equipment, enough to furnish a small gym. Harry and Ron exercised and practiced their Auror drills three times a day, to get their new bodies and magical cores re-conditioned to the rigours of Auror-level combat missions. (This would be a long-term project. Sigh.) Ron was a quick study, and their spars became increasingly brutal. Of course, Ron had an advantage: his body was taller, fitter, stronger and more muscular. Gilderoy Lockhart may've been a useless fop and braggart, but he didn't scrimp on his personal fitness. Harry glared in jealousy at Ron's chiselled six-pack as Ron wiped his face with his discarded shirt.

"My eyes are up here mate," Ron joked.

"Life isn't fair," Harry grumbled.

"So what else is new? If you're upset at not being the gleaming bundle of muscles that I am, don't fret – you were _always_ scrawnier and shorter than me, even in our own bodies!"

"Wonderful. You're such a kind a supportive person; I wonder why I keep you around."

"I think you mean, why do I keep _you_ around – and the answer is, because you'd be dead in a ditch within five minutes without yours truly to look after you." Harry winced. That was entirely too close to what his mystery girl had told him the other day.

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Snape was aware of two things when he awoke. The first was that he appeared to be restrained, the second was that someone had taken the time to remove his escape kit.

"Look like Sleeping Beauty's waking up," a muffled voice announced.

Harsh light blinded Snape for a moment as the rag was ripped off his face. Straining his eyes, he soon recognised his captor. His short, round, idiotic-looking captor. "Pettigrew!" Snape spat.

"Severus," Harry said calmly. "I suppose you're wondering what's happening?"

"What's happening is that you Marauders have finally gone too far," Snape growled. "You'll be expelled for this."

"I don't think that will happen," Harry disagreed blandly.

"When I tell ..."

"You won't," Harry interrupted. "Because if it comes to that, you'll be dead." The tone of utter sincerity in his foe's voice chilled Snape to the bone. Whoever this was, it was not the Peter Pettigrew he knew and loathed. Snape closed his mouth and glared at the other boy. Perhaps one of the other Marauders or one of his 'beloved' Housemates was playing with polyjuice. They stared at each other for a few seconds until Harry decided to break the silence. "I've brought you here to offer you my hand."

"In friendship?" Snape snorted in disbelief.

"In truce," Harry corrected. "Too much has happened for either of us to ever be friends."

"That's one thing we can agree on, you honourless cur." Snape scowled. "Why should I accept your offer?"

"Because I'll kill you if you don't," Harry said bluntly. "I want you to swear an unbreakable vow to never speak of tonight, to never act against me and my friends, and to never become a Death Eater. Or serve the Dork Lord in any capacity, really. In return, I will leave you alone." It was a bit more complicated then that, but he figured the boy had the gist of it.

"Potter and the others too?"

"I'll do my best to keep them restrained. Or diverted onto other projects," Harry agreed. "We're playing a very different game now and we can't be bothered with petty annoyances."

"How generous of you to promise things you have no way of delivering," Snape sneered. "Now let me go before I lose my temper!"

Harry stepped forward and drew his wand, pointing it directly at Severus' greasy forehead. "You sure that's your final decision?"

"You don't have the guts, Rat! You're nothing but a snivelling, sneaking coward, always hiding behind the robes of wizards more powerful and well-liked than you'll ever be. Would you ever have raised your wand at me or any of your other betters if you didn't have Potter and Black backing you up?" Snape blustered.

"Guess we'll never know eh? But before you get too self-righteous and defiant on me, why don't you take a look around and see what you can see?"

Snape did so. He was in the middle of the Slytherin common room trussed up in one of the antique walnut chairs. He saw Bellatrix, Narcissa and Regulus nearby, similarly tied to their own chairs, gagged and blindfolded. Their wands lay on the table, tantalisingly close.

"How did you get into the Slytherin dorms?" Severus demanded.

Harry merely smirked. "I have my ways." Turned out Ron was right. In retrospect, it did appear blindingly obvious that if using Parseltongue was sufficient to open Salazar's top secret lair, then it was also sufficient to bypass the wards of the Slytherin common room and dorms. Trust Salazar to ensure he had a backdoor. If they'd only known that in second year, Hermione would never have had to bother with brewing the polyjuice. Or endure transforming into a catgirl.

"In case you lack the wit to notice, there's nobody to protect you from me. Slughorn's asleep in bed. The entirety of Slytherin House is right here with you. Well, except for a couple of firsties and secondies but they're also asleep, and frankly I doubt there's much they could do to help you. The rest of your little slimy friends have disappeared and will never return," he said with finality. "Something you should know. If it were up to me, you'd be dead and in a shallow grave. But that would upset Lily. She'd want you to have a second chance and that's what I'm doing tonight. So what's it to be? Your oath, or the 'Half-Blood Prince' becomes the 'All-Dead Ponce'."

Snape thought it over. There was no doubt in his mind that the crazy rat would kill him if he didn't obey. "Agreed," he said, his mouth tasted like ashes. "Let's have the oath you want me to give."

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry it had to come to this," Harry said, getting as close to an apology as he could. Too much had happened between him and Snape (and Future-Snape) to mean more than that. He was letting the boy live because Lily would wish it, he just hoped he wouldn't come to regret indulging her.

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"Kreacher has searched all books in the Black and Potter libraries. Kreacher cannot find any books on wandses," Harry's gnarled servant reported.

"Did you check the secret Black library?" Harry demanded.

"Yes, gangrenous goitre of a master."

"What about Flourish & Blotts?"

"Nothing, masterly globule of tuberculotic sputum."

"Borgin & Burke's?"

"No, rancid pit of Rancor refuse."

"What about the other bookstores in Knockturn?"

"There is nothing in any of them, murder-victim master."

"Give it up mate," said Ron encouragingly. "Wandlore falls under 'family magic'. That's why only a few people, like Ollivander or Gregorovich can make 'em. You'll never find anything written down about it, outside of some secret family grimoire locked away at Gringotts. You think if Voldie could do a Hermione he'd go to all the trouble of kidnapping people or interrogating Grindelwald or forcing Ollivander to do custom jobs?"

"Point," Harry conceded.

 _I know you hate it, the Otter consoled him, but you may well have to admit defeat on this one._

 _The Owl hooted in sympathy._

"Argh," Harry ran his hands through his hair in frustration. Taking a moment to calm himself, he said in a measured tone: "Thankyou for all your efforts, Kreacher. Let's consider this task done. Feel free to occupy yourself as you see fit. Provided you tell nobody, human, elf, painting, mirror, or anything else where we are or what any of us have been doing, of course."

"Of course, lord of limp lustlessness."

Harry cast a _Tempus_. "It's almost time to get back to the real world."

"Well, at least it's been a nice break from schoolwork."

The boys took a quick shower and hurried back to their dorms. Pulling off the Invisibility Cloak, Harry tossed it into James' trunk, along with the Marauders' Map. "Kreacher!" Pulling the time turner off from around his neck, he handed it to the elf. "This is Lily Evans' time turner – take it back to the Head Girl's office, and _don't_ let her find out you or I ever had it! Go!"

As the elf popped away to complete his unwanted task, Harry dropped down onto his bed and tried to get a moment of shuteye. But this was not to be, for as soon as his eyes drifted closed, he heard someone entering the room.

"Hmmm I must tireder that I thought," came a voice. Harry opened his eyes to see past Peter Pettigrew standing in the doorway, blinking stupidly.

"You're not dreaming, you twonk," he drawled.

"You're me?"

"I'm not Santa Claus," Harry replied. "Though I may rival him in weight," he added ruefully.

"And why are you taking up my valuable bed space?"

"I'm here to tell you that it's time."

"It's time?" his Former-Self asked.

"It's time," he agreed.

"It's time?"

"It's Time."

"It's Time?"

"It's Time."

"It's – what is it time for?"

"Time to deal with the Slytherins and the rest of the Death Nibblers-in-training, of course!" Harry exclaimed impatiently. Why was his Former-Self such a twonk?

"That was me?"

"Was there ever any doubt?" Harry demanded in irritation. Must he spell everything out? "Does anyone else in this school have the cojones to do what's necessary? Is Dumbledore going to lift a finger to prevent the Knights of Walpurgis from riding roughshod over everyone else, and recruiting another generation of murderous psychopaths?"

"Dumbledore …"

"… and the Hogwarts faculty are giving Voldie's future army their basic training. Awfully nice of them to build up their enemies' forces," Harry finished sardonically.

"That's not fair," Peter objected. "Dumbledore's a teacher, and the Headmaster to boot! He can't play favourites, and he can't just turf people out of school because they have sympathy for the Dark Tosser and _may_ go rotten at some point in the future."

Harry smirked. "He can't. But we can."

"I suppose you've got a point there," Peter admitted.

"Of course I do. I'm from the future. I know about things like this."

"And how am I going to do it?"

"With magic, duh."

"But it all happened weeks ago!"

"Yes."

"But – ah. Time turner."

"Give the man a cigar," Harry cheered. "400 turns should do it."

"Where am I supposed to get ahold of a time turner?! I'm pretty sure the Department of Mysteries is sealed up tight right now 'coz of the Death Eater threat. There's no way I'll be able to get in."

"I'm sure you'll think of something," Harry replied smugly. _And stop being such a whiny git while you're at it._

"Can't this wait until I've had some sleep?" Peter grumbled.

"No," Harry said firmly. "You need to hurry. The others will be arriving here soon. You have to be gone by then."

"Can't you give me any hints, at least?"

"Grab the Invisibility Cloak and the Map," Harry nodded towards James' trunk, "and bring Ron down to the Chamber."

"The Chamber of Secrets?" Peter asked, rummaging around in the trunk for the items Harry had just deposited.

"No, the chamber pot of Godric Gryffindor. Of course the Chamber of Secrets!"

Peter triumphantly secured the Cloak and the Marauders' Map. Pulling the trunk's lid shut, he suddenly froze as he could hear voices approaching.

"We're out of time!" hissed Harry. "Get going!"

Peter threw the Cloak over himself, vanishing from sight as the other three Marauders came in.

"I saved you something," Remus commented, tossing him a large hunk of beef jerky.

"Thanks mate," Harry said gratefully. He grabbed the salted meat and started gnawing at it in his rat-like way. The room was filled with the sound of contented munching. The boys decided to continue the festivities with a few rounds of exploding snap. After a while, Harry was able to finally recall the problem that had been niggling in the back of his mind for the past few weeks.

"Think I'll pay that visit to Lovegood's lab tomorrow," Harry mused, as he lost yet another match. He was still curious as to how she'd known his real name. And that he was from another time. This was a matter of considerable importance, especially if Voldie and his cronies were able to replicate it. If they could, they'd almost certainly come after him. Not knowing was an unacceptable risk.

"What is it with you and crazy girls, Wormy?" Sirius sighed despondently. "With skills as mad as yours you could be nabbing perfect tens like Bones, or the McKinnons, or Rosmerta, or" – with a sly glance at Remus – "MacDonald."

"Oi!" Moony was on his feet in a flash. "Don't even think about it!"

Padfoot was prepared, and the pair of pals peppered each other with pushes and pounding punches, while a pensive Peter Pettigrew persisted in pondering.

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˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ ….

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"I think this is the place," Ron commented dryly.

The words " _Laboratory of Pandora Selene Lovegood_ " were scrawled across the final door of the lowest level of the Hogwarts dungeons, apparently handwritten in pink crayon (or was that lipstick?). More concerning was the message below it:

 _Warning: Moste Grosse Danger!_

 _No responsibility will be borne by the scientific or administrative staff in the event of explosion, skin-melting, brain rot, temporal/dimensional dislocation, loss of limbs, growth of extra limbs, blindness, insanity, loss of magic, age regression, etc etc._

 _Authorised by: A.W.P.B. Dumbledore._

Below was a rather unconvincing forgery of the Headmaster's signature, and a crude drawing that looked something like a man vomiting while his guts exploded and his skin melted away.

"Well, it's been fun," Ron announced calmly, "but now we've been here, done that, got the shee-tirt. What say we catch an early lunch?" Harry could only agree. They turned to leave for climes more temperate and less hazardous. Right before the world went black.

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˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ ….

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Harry woke up to the sound of Pandora laughing maniacally. Oh, how he wished that was something unusual! In a flash, it all came back to him: he and Ron had visited her lab, immediately thought better of it, and then been accosted by Lovegood and her minion and subjected to a range of tests that he was having trouble remembering.

"Pandora, what's going on?" he groaned, sitting up.

"I am the greatest magical genius in the universe is what's going on!" Pandora cackled. "I have not one but two Travellers to run tests on! You bringing me the blonde dolt pleases me so much I'm even going to forget that you're over two weeks late for our afternoon appointment. Bwahahahahahahahahaha!"

Harry got to his feet and flexed his aching muscles.

 _At least she conjured a mattress for our unconscious carcasses, instead of leaving us to sleep on the stone floor, the Grim noted._

 _What'ssss wrong with ssssleeing on the floor? asked Nagini._

"Hmmmm?" Pandora's wand appeared in her hand and she began waving it furiously while muttering a stream of incantations under her breath. "Harr– I mean Peter?"

"What is it?" he asked with growing dread.

"I may have made a tiny error when I made the runic array," she admitted in a tiny voice.

"Where's Ron – I mean, Gilderoy?" he asked, looking around. The large former potions classroom had been remodelled into a full-scale chemistry lab/potions supply store/filtration array. There were many desks filling every section, littered with electronics, rune-carving equipment, copper wires, steel tubes, what looked like the remains of several disassembled combustion engines, jars of strange and unknowable substances, and on the nearest wall a large board with numerous parchments and post-it notes stuck to it. The third wall was a segment of a giant fish tank. He blinked in surprise as a creature the size of the Knight Bus swam by. He could have sworn that was a ... but they were extinct so ... on the other hand, this was a Lovegood he was dealing with.

A row of cauldrons stood against the far wall, bubbling merrily. A strange man with long blond hair and a purple and green striped lab coat tended the concoctions. His safety gloves were on the wrong hands and his clear plastic safety visor was on backwards, ably protecting the back of his neck from stray droplets. Xenophilius waved cheerily when he noticed Harry's gaze. Pandora was standing in the middle of a giant ritual circle, filled with inscribed runes, waving her wand with a worried frown. However, what Harry did not see was his partner-in-time.

"He should be with us shortly," Pandora replied. "I think."

"You _think_?" Harry felt faint.

"It was just a couple of itty bitty decimal places," Pandora huffed, blowing a few strands of blonde hair out of her unfocused eyes. "Don't act like you've never made a mistake."

"So where is he?" Harry insisted.

"A better question is, _when_ is he?" Pandora corrected, much to Harry's dismay. "He should've been back three minutes ago."

"Maybe your calculations were out by a few minutes?" Harry suggested hopefully.

"Nonsense!" Pandora barked. "No doubt poor Ronald or Gilderoy or whatever the nargle you want to call him was captured by Death Eaters in the past and forced to reveal everything that shall come to pass in the future. Then, having no use for our imbecilic associate, the Death Eaters tortured him to death and dumped his mutilated remains in some public place." She placed a solemn comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "We shall wreak a bloody and unforgettable revenge!"

"Buh?"

"After we get lunch," Pandora added, switching back to her usual cheerfulness in a flash. "Nothing gives you an appetite like Science!"

At this point the door opened and another student entered. Disappointingly for Harry, it was not his temporally-challenged friend. Instead it was a rather familiar redhead.

"So Lily Evans, my rival, the number two magical genius in the universe, you have finally arrived to confront me!" Pandora proclaimed. "But all is in vain, for you shall never be able to defeat the might of my Science! I shall remain number one for all eternity! Bwahahahahahahahahaha!"

"I'm not Lily Evans," she told Pandora flatly, crossing her arms.

Harry stepped around the gloating magiscientist to approach the girl. "So we meet again. What can I do for you this time, miss …?"

"I have something of yours," she interrupted impatiently.

"Oh?"

"The idiotic-looking blond who follows you around. He fell from the ceiling and squished my brother Al,' the girl announced.

"Gilderoy?"

She shrugged. "Sure why not?"

"So that's where he ended up. Is everything okay?"

"Unfortunately no," she frowned. "Al is fine."

"We can fix that," Pandora said absently, rooting around one of her desks piled high with stacks of paper.

"We can?" asked the girl.

"Diviners and Prophets use their stargazing, their crystal balls, their prophecy globes, their tea leaves and all that rot. But for a really effective forecasting methodology, examining entrails is the only way to go!" She laughed at their expressions. "Kidding, kidding."

"Ah, so where is my friend?" asked

"Al and Scorpius are bringing him," she replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "That's all boys are good for, being my minions."

"A woman after my own heart," sniffed Pandora, wiping a tear from her eye.

"Right," Harry said dubiously. It was probably not a good idea letting these two hang around with each other too much. "So anyway … uh… Muriel Prewett, I presume?" he guessed tentatively, cursing himself for not having the Marauders' Map on him.

"What?" the girl asked in alarm. "Where?!" She sprang up and looked guiltily around.

"Um, here?"

Which merely seemed to concern her more; stepping close, she urgently whispered in his ear, "Is she under an invisibility cloak?" while frantically scouring the room with her piercing gaze.

"Aren't you Miss Prewett?" he asked in bewilderment at her bizarre behaviour.

"Wha–", she squawked. Then when she at last realised what he meant, spun around and punched him hard in the shoulder. "No you doofus, I'm Lily of course! Don't ever trick me like that again, or else I'll pterosaur-boogie hex you until your brains leak onto the floor!"

He blinked in surprise. That was unexpected. "You're Lily too?"

"Hmmm. I suppose you could call me Lily 2," she said thoughtfully. "It makes sense. You could also call me L2, since my first two initials are LL."

"Yep, LL for Lots of Lunacy!" mocked a voice from behind them. Whirling around, they saw two boys materialise out of the air.

"Nice invisibility cloak," Harry complimented.

"Thanks," said the taller one. He looked strikingly similar to a smaller version of James Potter, except the eyes were the wrong colour, and he was considerably scrawnier and messier-looking. The other one was pale, with a round face and a shock of white-blond hair.

"Though next time, you may want to disillusion the person you're levitating. Otherwise people might find it strange to see an unconscious body floating around by itself," Harry added helpfully.

"Oh. Right."

Harry flicked up his wand and levitated Ron onto the mattress. Fortunately he only seemed to be stunned or something similar. A quick _Rennervate!_ fixed him right up.

As Harry was reviving his friend and bringing him up to speed, the James Potter lookalike pulled something out of his robes. "We got it; it was stuffed with tracking charms too, just like you said." He tossed Lily 2 a diary. For a moment, Harry was alarmed, until he realised that the book was pink with silver writing on the binding, rather than black with the words 'Tom Riddle' inscribed. He felt a surge of relief. At least that was one problem he didn't have to deal with.

"Of course it was," she said smugly.

"So who's diary is it?" Harry asked.

"You'll see," the Lily 2 smiled sweetly. "Hmmm an alarm charm," she mused. "Let's see if we can get her here faster." She tried to open the book, prompting it to emit a low beeping noise.

"I don't like the sound of that," Ron murmured. "Sounds like one of the twin's experiments right before they explode."

An explosion did indeed occur, although not in a literal sense. Lily Evans burst into the room like the Wrath of Merlin, hair frizzing in all directions in magical fury. Her eyes swept the group before zeroing in unerringly onto a cornered-looking Harry.

 _Flee! the Dormouse shrieked._

Harry resisted every instinct in his body that screamed out for him to transform into a rat and run like hell from Nemesis stalking towards him with deadly intent.

"So," Lily growled, "you've hired a bunch of fourthies to steal my private, personal, private diary, full of my personal, private, personal things have you, Pettigrew? Is there no end to your depravity?!"

"Ah Lily, I'd like to introduce you to the girl who dragged me out of the loo on the Express. And had our backs when we were fighting those Acromantulae in the Forbidden Forest. Say hi to Lily 2," he said, nervously backing up a step.

"I also watched over the two of you after that ritual when you were unconscious. Levitated you back to the castle. I didn't foresee you two of you going on a crazy magical rampage when you woke up though," Lily 2 stated.

"You were the person in the black robe?" Lily asked, successfully distracted from her original (violent) intent. "Hmmm I thought the voice sounded a bit feminine."

"And they were just about to explain to us who they are, what they were doing there, and why they're helping me in the first place?" Harry added meaningfully.

"Coz we're your children of course," said Lily 2 confidently.

"WHAT?!" yelled Harry, Al, Ron and Lily. Pandora and Xenophilius smirked in delight.

Al was appalled. " _You're_ my dad! But … gah! You're so ugly!" Harry and Al stared at each other in horror. Even as fourth-year or thereabouts, he was still less than an inch shorter than Harry.

Lily 2 slapped him on the shoulder. "Stop it Al, that's rude!"

Harry winced. "Gee thanks."

Ron grinned, "Out of the mouths of babes eh, 'Peter'?"

"Shut up, you twonk! You're hardly an Adonis yourself!"

"Says you," he shot back, favouring the females with a charming grin and a sparkle in his eye. The girls grimaced in disgust.

"Are you sure?" Al demanded of his sister. "Really really _really_ sure?"

She nodded firmly.

"How do you know?"

"He told me, duh."

"That's it? He told you?"

"Yep, on my first visit to this time. He came right out of the blue, saved me from a couple of glibters in Knockturn Alley, then told me about the time travel and ending up in the wrong body and everything."

Harry frowned. "I never did any of that."

"Oh," Lily 2 said. "It must not have happened yet for you. Just don't forget to check Borgin & Burkes."

"What?"

"I knew you seemed familiar," Ron burst out. "Your mother was Ginny Weasley amirite?" He grinned smugly as Al and Lily 2 nodded dutifully. "I knew it! And I suppose you have cousins whose father is Ron Weasley?" They nodded ago. "Hah, still got it!" he preened proudly.

"Do I have any other children?" Harry asked in a daze.

"Let's see," said Lily 2, ticking off her fingers. "In order, there's James Sirius Potter, Albus Severus Potter" – she gestured to the boy who was glaring in sullen disbelief at Harry – "and myself: Lily Luna Potter. The others are still in the crib, Remus Orion Potter, Theodore Bilius Potter, Sirius Ronald Potter, and Frederica Georgina Potter."

"Seven?" he repeated. "I have seven children?"

"It _is_ the most magically powerful number," Pandora nodded sagely.

"And our mother is the seventh of seven children," Lily Luna added proudly. "That makes it doubly potent."

"So tell us, O time travellers," asked Lily, fingering something under her blouse unconsciously, "what brings you to the here and now?"

"Well here's the thing," Lily Luna said, looking nervous for the first time, "we came to see if we could change the future."

"What exactly needed to be changed?" Ron demanded. "Did we lose the war or something? Did Voldemort take over Europe?"

"No no no, we won!" she assured him. "Dad (he, Peter, whatever) married Mum, became Chief Auror, had a bunch of kids, everything's fine."

"Your father's Chief Auror huh?" Ron said dryly. "That explains where you got the Veritaserum from." She smiled sheepishly. Lily shot her a calculating look. Pandora beamed in approval.

"I always did want a big family," Harry muttered to himself, "but seven …"

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	12. 10 The Well-Laid Plans of Mice and Men

**Author's Note:**

This is a continuation/soft reboot of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse, with a bunch of changes. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" by Rorschach's Blot. Both are used with the permission of their original authors. The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter, Alice in Wonderland, Anchorman, Austin Powers, Avatar: the Last Airbender, Blackadder, The Barber of Seville, the Bible, Discworld, Dragonball Z, Evil Dead, How It Should Have Ended, Farscape, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Futurama, Game of Thrones, Inglourious Basterds, Great Expectations, Heart of Darkness, Indiana Jones, Inuyasha, Keeping Up Appearances, Lolita, The Lone Ranger, The Marriage of Figaro, Mazes and Monsters, Monkey Island, Monte Python, Naruto, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Pinky and the Brain, Pokémon, Popeye, Ranma ½, Red Dwarf, Robot Chicken, The Simpsons, Snakes on a Plane, South Park, Star Trek, Star Wars, Terminator 2, The Thousand and One Nights, Troll 2, Tomb Raider, Yes Prime Minister, White Chicks, and the works of Edgar Allen Poe, HP Lovecraft, Roald Dahl, Shakespeare, or anyone else.

Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.

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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "Throwing Out The Script" by Formulaic.

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* * *

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 **Chapter 10 – The Well-Laid Plans of Mice and Men**

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Don't dismiss me as crazy just because I am

Won't disrupt my plan.

– _Weird Science_

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"Greetings and well-met, Lily Luna, Albus Severus and Scorpius," Pandora said kindly yet grandly. "I shall be your MC for the proceedings – my name is Universe's Mightiest Scientist and Greatest Genius Pandora Selene Lovegood, and this is my minion, Xenophilius Oddment Fitzhallibut-Malfoy. But everyone just calls him 'Odd'."

"Malfoy?!" Harry yelped in surprise. He turned to regard the Odd man out. "You're a Malfoy?!"

"Of course he is," Pandora said impatiently. "We both are, naturally."

" _You're_ a Malfoy too?!"

Pandora rolled her eyes and spoke in a tone that indicated he was thicker than molasses on Mars. "You didn't think the striking physical resemblance between us all was purely coincidental do you?"

Harry opened his mouth, paused, then shut it again with a click. He thought about it. Evaluating the Lovegoods' features, he realised that he'd never seen that combination of clear blue eyes and long, straight silvery-blonde hair on anyone in Wizarding Britain except for Pandora, Xenophilius, Luna, Draco, Lucius and Scorpius. Hannah Abbott, Lavender Brown and Anthony Goldstein all had dirty blonde curls, and their eyes ranged from grey to brown, not clear sapphire. Dumbledore had sapphire eyes, but his twinkled insanely not coldly, and he'd been a redhead in his youth. "Point," he conceded, feeling like a complete imbecile.

"Mate, how could you not figure that out? Everybody knows the Malfoys are off the wall," Ron commented breezily. "All crazy in one way or another, every man-jack of 'em – are you really that shocked that the Lovegoods are a cadet branch of that family?"

"Oi!" Scorpius objected.

"Huh. I suppose not," Harry mused. "So Lord Abraxas …"

"… was my mother's older brother," Pandora finished coldly. Odd winced and looked away.

"Er, I see," Harry muttered. Even though he didn't.

"You know what," Ron said suddenly, "I just realised that since we have an Oddment, all we need to complete the set are a Nitwit, Blubber and Tweak!"

"Looks like somebody just volunteered to be Nitwit!" Harry snarked.

"And somebody else is just the picture-postcard-perfect image of Blubber," Ron shot right back.

"And I shall be Tweak!" barked Pandora, back to her usual self again. "For I shall Tweak the foundations of Reality to force it to do my bidding! Bwahahahahahahaha!"

Xenophilius joined her in a long, relaxing bout of maniacal laughter.

Calming, Pandora examined the three new arrivals as if they were particularly appetising lab mice. "This will be ever so much fun! I now have not one, not two, but five Travellers to play with!" she squealed in joy.

"Okay okay, that's it," Harry announced loudly. "Before anyone goes any further, Miss Lovegood is going to explain to us how she knew that myself and 'Roy were from the future, or the past, or a different dimension, or whatever …" He crossed his arms and looked expectantly at her. "I'm not moving an inch – or participating in any other 'experiments' – until I get an explanation. A satisfying one, none of that 'because the nargles told me' shite."

She blinked in surprise. "The Ball of course."

"What Ball? Not an Orb of Prophecy?" Harry asked in dread.

"Of course not – the Magic Eight Ball."

"A Magic Eight Ball is how you knew my real name and that I'd come from a different dimension?" he asked numbly. He looked over to Xenophilius who was proudly proffering said ball.

"How can you trust it?" Ron demanded.

"It's magic, duh. And it was right about you two."

Harry and Ron shared a look. "She's got us there, mate," Harry conceded reluctantly.

"Wait a sec," Lily said, raising a hand. " _You've_ also got some freaky memories from some possible future?" She pointed at Ron. He nodded reluctantly. "It does explain why your personality's done a 180 for no reason … and why you've suddenly started hanging out with The King Rat, in defiance of all logic, social climbing or good taste," she muttered to herself. "Just how many of you lot are there running around the place?" she demanded.

"Possibly one more," Harry said carefully. "But we haven't located her yet, if she is here."

During this discussion, Lily Luna had withdrawn a wand and cast a number of privacy and locking charms at the door. Of surprisingly large variety and complexity for a fourth-year. Harry's eyes focused on the all-too-familiar holly and phoenix feather wand in her slender hand. "Where did you get that wand?" he asked sharply.

"Nicked it," she replied cheerfully. "After the war, Dad locked it away; said he'd never use it again. Wouldn't say why. He got another one. Willow and niffler hair, I think, or something lame like that. Now can we _pleeeease_ get to the main issue?"

The group quickly arranged themselves in the centre of the lab on some hastily-transfigured stools. Except for Pandora, who reclined regally on a large throne made of metal tubes and engine parts.

"I gathered you all here because we want your help," announced Lily Luna pompously.

"Help with what?" asked Lily curiously.

"Help with changing the future."

"Huh," said Lily. "That's not something I hear every day."

"I think we will need some context, young rutabaga," said Xenophilius gently. "So that we can help you as best we can. We wouldn't want to inadvertently turn the British Isles into another Atlantis would we? Or turn the Heliopaths into the legitimate magical government?"

"Alright, that sounds fair," Lily Luna replied, clearly the leader of the trio, despite being the youngest and smallest. "I'll have to make it quick. We only have half an hour before the timer runs out and we automatically return back to our starting time."

"Wait a minute," Al protested, "The time turner only allows us to stay in the past for five minutes at a time!" Scorpius nodded in agreement.

His younger sister favoured him with a pitying glance. "That's because you had it turned to its lowest setting, moron," she replied loftily. "And did you not notice that we've already been here for," she checked her little silver wristwatch, "10 minutes already?"

"Oh." Embarrassed, Albus Severus ran his hands through his dishevelled hair in a very Harryesque way.

Scorpius looked to the floor. Lily Luna sighed in a long-suffering sort of way.

"Don't worry, dear," Pandora comforted the younger girl from her Iron Throne, "It's to be expected, after all. They're on their way to becoming men, and therefore stupid."

"I would normally challenge such a sexist slight to me and my kind," Harry said mildly, "but I'm far too interested in why and how two of my children and their lackey have been haunting me for the past few weeks, like cuter and more practical little Peeveses."

Lily Luna giggled, and he winked at her. Scorpius glowered.

"Summarise," commanded Lily, casting a _Tempus_ charm. "You have just over 15 minutes."

The smaller Lily pulled herself together and focussed on the issue at hand. "It all starts with Mr Daddy-Issues here," she prodded Al, who slapped her hand away in annoyance, "being Sorted into Slytherin and then moaning about it for three or four years."

"Oi!"

"It's true though: every other day it was 'waaah the other kids don't like me 'coz I'm in Slytherin', or 'waaah people won't stop talking about how great my father and brother are', or 'waaah nothing I ever do is good enough'. Somebody call the waaambulance already!" She poked her tongue out at him. Al sprang forward, arms outstretched but suddenly froze in mid-air.

"Talk now, fight on your own time," Pandora commented, eyes agleam.

Lily lifted her brow at her sorta-friend's attitude, but her own insatiable curiosity was gnawing too strongly at every fibre of her being to do anything but agree.

"Anyway, the two geniuses here thought it'd be a great idea to nick this brand-spanking-new experimental time turner that the Unspeakables had just finished throwing together. It had no limit on how far you could go back, and you could actually change history with it! Nicked it right out of Aunt Hermione's office, they did."

"You nick things all the time," Harry observed mildly.

"I only nick unimportant things," Lily Luna protested, "like Veritaserum or wands or blasting stones or ward-amplifiers or mysterious hidden artefacts or that alligator, not stuff that could destroy the universe! And I always have good reason for doing it," she added piously.

"What are blasting stones?" asked Odd curiously.

"Nothing, forget I said it," Lily Luna said hastily. "The point is, the two brainless wonders blindly followed the first pretty skirt who paid attention to them, and started screwing around with Time. Wrecked the timeline six ways 'til Sunday ..."

"In what way?" Harry asked his purported son. As a veteran Time-screwer-upper, he was interested in seeing what others had done with the opportunity. "Did you go back to get training directly from the Four Founders? Did you go meet Merlin, or visit Atlantis before it sank?" The possibilities that this special time turner could provide were blowing up his mind!

Lily Luna snorted. "Nowhere near so creative. They tried to save Cedric Diggory's life, but couldn't even do that right: ended up creating a world where Harry Potter died and Voldemort ruled wizarding Europe!"

The older students in the room cringed unconsciously. That was already uncomfortably close to happening in their own world, possibly in the very near future. Al and Scorpius were looking increasingly chagrined at the little redhead's analysis.

"They managed to undo that, obviously, otherwise the two of us wouldn't be here talking to you right now. But then they get themselves caught by that skirt they were chasing, and she tries to stop Voldemort from hitting you with the Killing Curse as a baby, on that night," Lily Luna explained.

"What?! You were hit with a Killing Curse and _survived_?!" Lily demanded. "A Killing Curse from a _Dark Lord_? And as an infant, no less?"

Harry shrugged.

Ron supplied, "Yep, and once again at age 17. No big deal for our hero here."

"No big deal!? NO BIG …. Grrrr, you and me are going to have a long talk about this afterwards, buster."

"Indeed," Pandora nodded seriously. "Your resistance to AKs must be researched. Not to mention, being hit by two Killing Curses may well have skewed all the test data I've already collected. I have no choice but to redo the entire battery of experiments!" Strangely enough, she did not appear unhappy at this turn of events.

Harry and Ron winced; no way were they going through that gauntlet again. Looking into each other's faces, they silently agreed to flee as soon as the first opportunity presented itself.

"Riiiight … back to the story: they tried to save the lives of Lily, James and Harry Potter that night –"

"Wait a minute," Lily interrupted once more. "Are you saying that the older version of me _died_ that same night?!" Lily Luna nodded. "How old was I?"

Lily Luna and Al glanced at each other. "Dunno … 20 maybe?" Al offered hesitantly.

Lily flopped bonelessly onto her chair. "Dead by 20 …?" she whispered to herself, appalled. "And married to Potter … I don't know which is worse, but _both_ …"

Lily Luna's gimlet-eyed stare bored into Harry's skull. "Didn't you tell them about all this?"

"Of course not! What possible good would that do? None of that's going to happen this time around, so there's no use in dwelling on possibilities," Harry said firmly.

The keen, considering gaze that the Head Girl was directing on him suggested, to his sinking resignation, that his plan to keep mum was going to be torpedoed in short order by this sorta-version of his sorta-mum.

"It's not so bad," Lily Luna tried to comfort Lily.

"Not so bad!?" the agitated Head Girl demanded. "How could it possibly be 'not so bad'? Explain it to me, 'coz I'm sure not seeing it right now!"

"Well, I mean, yeah, sure, that version of you died and all, but your death did a lot of good. All those blood magic rituals you did ensured that your willing sacrifice of your life caused Voldemort's Killing Curse to bounce off Harry, Peter, whatever, and hit _him_ instead. Destroyed his body and ushered in a decade and a half of peace to the British magical world," Lily Luna explained in a reassuring tone.

Harry nodded affirmatively. "Saved my life many times over. So, thanks I guess!" He gave her an encouraging thumbs up.

Lily paled further, if that were possible. "Are you saying that an alternative older version of me was dabbling in _illegal blood magic_?!"

"Master of the field more like. Don't worry, the law always looked the other way. As if anyone was ever going to arrest The Bleeding Lilly! One of the deadliest and most effective Aurors in the field, I'm told she was," Lily Luna said proudly. "According to Aunt Susan you, she, was Amelia Bones' partner, before Amelia become the Director of the DMLE. I believe your pet name for her was 'Sadistic Bitch'; or was it her pet name for you? I forget."

"The Bleeding Lilly?" Lily asked in a dazed tone.

Lily Luna blinked at the girl in increasing concern at how she was taking the news. But, aware of the pressing time constraints, did not press the issue, in favour of providing more pressing information. "Getting back to the story, the girl – Dauphin or something – smashes the time turner so no-one could undo things. Al and Scorpius sent a message to the adult you in the future using some, no doubt doltish, method. Luckily, there was another one of those time turners that adult-you had, so the cavalry came and saved the day. Well, so to speak – I mean, they still had to let Voldemort kill James and Lily and then get killed himself by trying to kill you and all, but I mean, at least the timeline was more or less intact, amirite?" And with this less-than-edifying conclusion to her epic tale, Lily Luna sat down, with the satisfied air of someone who's successfully completed a difficult and thankless task.

"A most intriguing series of butterfly effects," mused Pandora, leaning back in her Iron Throne of Science and tenting his hands.

Lily Luna opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by a low buzzing noise sounding from under her blouse. Fishing out a device that could only be one of the time turners her story described, she announced, "Looks like we're out of time!" Albus and Scorpius immediately glommed onto her and with a pop, the three were gone.

"Well," Odd declared into the loud silence that followed, "that was quite a story."

"It was wasn't it?" said Lily Luna. "I've always been the best storyteller out of my friends."

The assembled group turned in surprise as the three persons who'd just left a minute or two ago emerged from the far side of the room, doffing their Invisibility Cloak.

"Where did you come from?" Ron demanded.

"Ginevra Molly Weasley," the girl replied cheekily. "But if you're asking how we got into the lab, through the door. You all were so intent on what the other me was saying, you didn't even notice us sneak in."

"This is the next day for us," Al added. "Have to wait for the time turner to recharge now and then."

"But we figured it was only fair to come back and tell you the rest of it, since we need your help to fix things," his sister added.

"Now that you are back again, I've a question," Ron said. "Why would this Dolphin person –"

"Delphini," corrected Scorpius.

"'s what I said, why would she want Snakeface to win? She a Death Nibbler or something?"

"Oh," said Al, "didn't we tell you that? 'Coz she's Voldemort's daughter."

"What?! Old Albino the Hairless actually did it with a flesh-and-blood woman?" Ron demanded, shuddering. "Who'd be crazy and depraved enough to ever wanttodothatitwasBellatrixLestrangewasntit?"

"Of course it was," Harry groaned, seeing the three time travellers nod. "Who else could it ever be? I'm hitting that girl with a permanent sterilisation hex next time I see her."

"Give 'er one for me too, mate."

"The thing I don't understand," Odd piped up, "is why you came here. It sounds as if everything were wrapped up nicely, with no need to 'change the future' as you put it."

"That's 'coz I haven't told you the rest yet," Lily Luna grinned impudently. "It was all fine and dandy except for the part where Delphini was dragged back to the proper time – our present – to go stand trial in front of the Wizengamot."

"And that was bad because …" Harry said.

"Because there's still a ton of blood purists in the government, and they jumped at the chance to get their hands on her," Scorpius said dryly. "Any family that controlled the 'Heir of Voldemort and Slytherin' would be preeminent amongst the dark families, maybe even have their Heir marry her and produce offspring who'd be contenders for the next Dark Lord." He grimaced. "So she got sprung."

"And that's when these two decided to grow a brain and talk to someone who could do something that would actually help. And who, if they'd gone to her sooner, would've made sure none of this whole mess ever happened!" Lily Luna interjected primly.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh great, another know-it-all!"

"Shut up Ron, don't speak that way about your niece!" Harry asserted. Lily Luna gave him a smile of thanks. He winked back.

"Being the 'know-it-all' that I am," she made finger-quotes, "I figured that that lot would probably try to grab that second time turner from the Ministry as soon as they could, to go back in time to try and make Voldemort the emperor again. People are stupid, they always try to do the same things over and over again, no matter how badly it turned out for them the previous times," she pronounced with all the certainty of a precocious 14-year old girl. "So …"

"Let me guess …" Harry sighed.

"I nicked it."

"Unfortunately," Al broke in, "there was still a big fight at the Ministry. Delphini and her friends were tearing the Minister's Office and the DoM apart trying to find the time turner, they got in a big fight with the Aurors, and it all got really out of hand."

"How out of hand?" asked Ron.

"They ah … they kind of woke Voldemort up."

Silence.

Harry blinked. "I'm positive I didn't hear that right."

Ron said, "Me either. I mean, I distinctly remember hearing the little red hen here saying that we won the war, you became Chief Auror and we and lived happily ever after and all that rot. Kinda hard to imagine that happening while Snakeface was still on this side of the mortal coil and all."

Lily Luna sighed. "You may as well settle in; it took me ages and ages of pestering Mum and Aunt Hermione and Uncle Algie from the Unspeakables to put it together. Okay, you know how you had that bit of Voldemort's soul in your head that was keeping him from dying?"

"You had some of a Dark Lord's soul lodged in your brain?!" Lily demanded. "Oh my Merlin, every new thing I hear about you makes me horrified all over again!" She prodded Harry firmly, and he squeaked loudly. Twisting away from the brutal assault, Harry spun around behind her and used an Auror restraining trick to incapacitate her arms. "Let me go, you numptie!" she demanded, squirming in his grip.

"Are you going to be a good girl and keep your hands to yourself?" he demanded, shifting his weight to maintain his grip. Being a head shorter than her made it difficult to maintain proper leverage, and the two lost their balance and went tumbling down onto the mattress.

"I promise nothing!" she declared. The two continued to wrestle, as the others looked on in a mixture of amusement and disgust at the display. Al greened nauseously, while Lily Luna observed the roughhousing with frank interest.

"If you two have finished flirting for the moment," Pandora said in irritation, "I would like to find out about our Travellers' aims of changing the future. "I assume you wish our assistance in this endeavour?" At their nods, she held out her hand. "Then you shall have the backing of Science! Well then, let's start off with examining this 'perfect time turner' of yours."

Lily Luna reluctantly handed it over. "We need that back soon," she said nervously. "If the timer runs out and we're not touching it at the time, it'll go back by itself and we'll be stuck here in this time forever."

"I'll be most speedy." After a minute or two of Pandora and Odd hemming and hawwing over the device, Pandora shook her head firmly in the negative. Still examining the time turner, she said, "Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but you cannot use a time turner to change the past."

"Could've fooled me. You sound more delighted than sorry," Ron said mulishly.

"Yes you can," Al immediately protested. "Like Lily said, we changed it a lot! Me and Scorpius messed things up quite a bit …"

Harry tried to remember something Hermione had told him once "He's right, aren't there all sorts of stories about witches and wizards going back in time and killing themselves and suchlike?"

Pandora treated the two Potter males to a pitying gaze. "Of course there are. And they're just that – stories. Something to amuse the average simpleton. The Mad Muggle goes Back to the Future; Bilius and Theodore's Excellent Adventurousness; My Little Portal. Pshaw! A time turner doesn't change the timestream around the user, it's nowhere near powerful enough to do that. It merely changes the user's own relative position within the stream. Like standing on the top of the Astronomy Tower then walking down to the dungeon – you're just in a different part of the same thing, that doesn't transform Hogwarts castle into an Oceanside resort!" Pandora lectured. "Ergo, the timestream has already taken your past actions into account, whatever you do."

"So you _can't_ go back into the past and kill your past self? Or become your own grandfather?" Harry asked in a chastened tone.

"Of course not, what stupid ideas; and what sort of degenerate would want to do either of those things in the first place? You're not a pureblood, Pettigrew, kindly don't start thinking like one!"

"That does seem to make sense," Ron pondered, restraining himself from defending his blood status (wasn't Pandora a pureblood too?). "Hermione and Harry saw his past self cast a Patronus to save his present self, before they'd even gone back to do it."

"Exactly – the whole forms a stable, immutable system."

"But we really _did_ change the world," Scorpius objected vociferously. "We made it so Aunt Hermione wasn't Minister of Magic any more! We made it so Dad didn't exist and Voldemort ruled the world! Explain how we could use the time turner to do that!"

Pandora was unfazed. "Foolish minion, that is because this," she held up the device, " _isn't_ a time turner at all!"

"It isn't?" asked Lily Luna curiously. "Then why does everyone call it a time turner, and why does it turn time?"

"Perhaps a comparison with a real time turner would be effective to demonstrate my thesis." Turning to Lily, she asked, "Could you show us yours, please?"

Lily blanched, eyes darting about. "I don't know what are you talking about, I, uh, don't have one of those."

Pandora rolled her eyes. "Come on Lily, you're not fooling anyone. Everybody knows you've got it."

Lily looked as if she'd been slapped. The Head Girl immediately shot a challenging glare at the remainder of the room. Harry and Ron nodded sheepishly. Xeno gave her a thumbs up. Lily deflated. "And here I thought I was being extra clever and stealthy about it," she sighed.

Pandora replied, "If you want to be _reeeally_ stealthy, don't take every single class on offer at Hogwarts. Attending different classes at the same time is a bit of a giveaway, don't you think?"

"You have to keep this a secret!" Lily ordered urgently. "Professor McGonagall made me promise!"

"We have so far, haven't we?" Ron shot back. The others nodded.

"Fine," she growled mutinously, pulling it out of her impressive décolletage and handing it to Pandora. "Just be careful with it."

"Aren't I always? This is a Lovegood you're talking to," Pandora said breezily (and unreassuringly), laying both the devices next to each other on the nearest table. Both girls began to cast a series of complicated and unintelligible diagnostic charms to compare and contrast. Odd, Lily Luna and Al trotted over to observe, leaving Harry and Ron alone with the sole remaining traveller.

An awkward silence descended.

Harry cast around for something intelligent to say. "So… you're Draco's kid eh? Uh, how's that working out for you?" He failed.

The boy stared back blankly.

"Uh, you ever hear the one about the hag, the Healer, and the _Mimbulus mimbletonia_?" Ron offered.

More blank staring.

Eventually the boy spoke. "You were friends with my father?"

"Er, in a manner of speaking," Harry replied uncomfortably.

"And my grandfather is now your classmate?"

"Yep."

"What's he like?"

"Lucius?"

Scorpius nodded.

"Well, let's see …" _Supercilious? Murderous? More racist than the all racing racers at the grand race of the Grande Prix?_

"Do you think you could take me to him? I'd like to see what he was like around my age," Scorpius asked eagerly. "I haven't been able to find him here yet."

 _I dare you to tell him you set a giant basilisk on his grandfather, shouted the Grim. I double-dare you to take him down to the Chamber and show him Lucius' petrified carcass! That'd be a treat – any teenager would jump at the chance!_

Harry was saved by the bell-like tinkle of satisfied (i.e., maniacal) laughter from the magiscientist.

"Bwahahahahaha! Exactly as I'd supposed," she announced. "Hardly surprising given my ineffably sublime intellect – the types of magic infusing these devices are completely different." Lily nodded in agreement.

"What does that mean?" demanded Scorpius petulantly. Harry and Ron thought it made him look a lot like a Draco who'd drunk an age-reduction potion and was pouting about it. So basically, like how Draco normally looked.

"It means, young minion, that you didn't go back and forth in time, you actually went to alternative dimensions."

"You mean, like a different universe?" Lily Luna goggled.

"That's correct," Pandora beamed.

"But but," spluttered Al, "that means that every time we changed something in the past … then when the timer ran out and we returned …

"… the changes generated a new universe to which you were restored to. Or maybe the device simply sent you to a universe where those changes had occurred in the past, so you felt the consequences. Or maybe it just sent you to a completely random universe that was at roughly the same point in the timestream as the one you started out from. A most extraordinary Device. I wish I could congratulate its inventor; truly an inspired piece of Science – almost on a par with something I've constructed." Pandora eyed the Device hungrily. Alarmed, Lily Luna seized the chain, and tucked the machine under her blouse again.

Al looked like he'd eaten a boggart or had to clear out a manticore stable. "And the original dimension we left from?" he asked sickly.

Pandora shrugged. "It's probably still out there somewhere."

"Oh my Merlin," breathed Al. The three students seemed to sag, leaning in on each other for support, as if they'd melt onto the floor without it.

"You have to think about what the inventor intended with this Device," Pandora expounded. "Most likely to be able to change some undesirable aspect of her past, present or future circumstances. Time turners are useless because you can't change anything in the timestream, as I have already demonstrated through Science. What would be the point of using a device that doesn't let you change things? But to change things, you have to alter the nature of the universe you're in. And since each universe has a momentum of its own, theoretically the universe will split, and you're spun out into another one where the changes and their consequences manifest." She was pacing, unconsciously gesticulating to emphasise her points.

Harry had an idea. "That means that the time ritual 'Roy and I were caught in sent us to another universe, not the past! It must be! We've been able to change all sorts of stuff that I'm pretty damn skippy didn't happen the last time round."

"In all likelihood," Pandora agreed loftily, "though a proper methodology would involve reconstructing whatever time-warping ritual that other you did in the first place; then we can establish a workable hypothesis …"

"No that's all right, I trust your word on that," Harry assured the girl on the Iron Science Throne, a trifle frantically, sharing an alarmed look with Ron. There was no way in the nine levels of wizarding hell that he was going to allow Pandora Lovegood access to the Necronomicon. "Moving along, can The Device return us, uh, I mean our memories," he amended hastily, "back to _our_ original dimension?"

She nodded. "Perhaps. But not this one." At their looks of confusion, she elaborated. "Magic transcends dimensions and Time. But this Device, I suspect, is tied to a single point in the timestream, and will always return to that temporal point of departure, regardless of which universe you end up in. So it won't help you get to any point except when these three came from – which is, what, about 20 years after your memories end?"

Harry nodded. It was tempting though. Go to a time where his counterparts were happy and the world was at peace. Or was it? Didn't they say that Voldemort had somehow 'woken up?' He glanced at the three.

Lily Luna looked hopeful. She opened her mouth, but The Device gave its buzzing warning, and the three were gone again.

The remnant waited around for 10 minutes, in case the travellers reappeared again. But all was silence. It appeared that they wouldn't be back for the time being, and their many questions left unanswered.

"Well, that was certainly an enlightening session," Lily said finally. "Miss Lovegood, I do believe I need to have a long discussion with my so-called 'son' about the many and varied things that he's been hiding from me about my future and his past."

Harry sighed in relief. Saved from the cavalcade of sadistic testing in the so-called name of so-called Science!

"But that can wait until after you've rerun all your experiments on him and his friend," she continued with an evil smile. "I wouldn't want him to be in anything but tip-top shape for you."

Harry's relief evaporated.

"True," said Pandora, nodding sagely. "That would provide the best quality test results."

"Good," replied Lily sweetly. "Because I can assure you that once I'm through with him, he won't be."

.

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˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ ….

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"Wahoo!"

Gilderoy Lockhart's breakfast the next morning was rudely interrupted by the rude shouting coming from the Gryffindor table. To his chagrin, it emanated from none other than his dear friend and fellow time-traveller Harry Potter. To his further chagrin, said dear friend shot over to the Ravenclaw side of the Great Hall as fast as his fat little legs could take him and sat down right next to him, panting and sweating as if he'd just run a mile.

"We did it!" Peter Pettigrew hissed. "The pig is in the poke!"

"What the bloody hell does that mean?" Ron grumbled. "And stop waving that parchment in my face, can't you see I'm trying to eat breakfast?"

"Inhale, more like. When one eats a meal, 'Roy, it is not typical to need to be careful of losing fingers. Yours or the other 'Claws'." He looked up. "Amirite, fellas?" The other 'Claws sniffed disdainfully, and pointedly shifted further away from the pair. Turning back to Ron, he continued, "But can you cease your inhaling for just a moment and read this?"

Realising his meal time was well and truly over for the foreseeable future, Ron sighed and turned his attention to the note that had gotten the rat animagus so worked up. His eyebrows shot up, paralleling his legs, which propelling him upright simultaneously. He whirled to Harry. "You think it's on the level?"

The short boy nodded. "She mentions how She's always supported house elf rights, which has led to people believing She's up to no good. But She swears that all Her youthful mischief has been managed and won't be a problem any longer."

"By Merlin's saggy left buttock, it really is Her," Ron breathed. "We have to meet!"

"I'll send her an owl telling her to meet us at the Hog's Head tonight. None of us know what the others looks like though, and she said her appearance wouldn't be what we'd expect. Chances are she's also ended up in a strange and twisted mockery of a body. So we need some way to identify ourselves … I'll think of something. I'm going to the owlery to send a response right now," Pettigrew whispered, before scampering away. Ron tried to ignore the bewildered looks from his fellow 'Claws and from the Marauders, and returned to his repast.

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˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ ….

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Some hours after the evening meal had concluded, the two students snuck through the hidden passage to Honeydukes and made their way to the Hog's Head, wearing black, wearing face-concealing robes. Sitting down at a table in the farthest corner of the bar, nursing butterbeers, it was not longer before they were approached by a hooded stranger in similar attire.

"The moon sure is bright tonight," the stranger observed casually.

"But the ice is slippery," Harry finished. "Why don't you have a seat and warm yourself for a while, stranger?"

"I'll do that." The hooded figure sat, and surreptitiously cast a privacy spell over the table.

"Hermione!" Ron hissed, "Is it really you?"

"Yes, and you don't need to whisper any more."

"Right," Ron said in a normal volume. "Uh, Hermione, you should know that, well, we're, uh, not exactly in our normal bodies ..."

"Me either," the shape replied unhappily.

"So uh, how should we do this?" asked Harry awkwardly. "I don't know the etiquette for these sorts of situations."

"Probably because it doesn't exist," the shadowy figure replied wryly. "But why don't you two go first: stupidity before beauty and all that."

The boys acceded to her request and threw back their black cowls. There was a long pause.

"Gilderoy Lockhart and Peter Pettigrew. Not who I was expecting."

"Okay," said Ron impatiently, "we've done the big dramatic reveal, so take your cowl down and show us the goods already. This isn't some parallel dimension where we're all getting any younger."

"No prizes for guessing which one of you is Ronald," the figure said dryly, before throwing off her own hood.

Ron and Harry shifted back involuntarily, shock marring their handsome and ugly (respectively) features. Never, never in their wildest imaginings could they have foreseen such a horrific and gut-wrenching outcome. Both manfully resisted the urge to vomit, to flee, to scream in terror, or to throw up their hands to the heavens and cry out to whatever deities may be up there against the rank injustice of the universe.

"Dolores Umbridge, junior investigator and auditor of the Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures (DCRMC), of the British Ministry of Magic. Pleased to make your acquaintance," Hermione introduced herself sourly.

.

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˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ ….

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Pettigrew and Lockhart waited nervously. Umbridge's manicured fingernail tapped slowly on the tabletop. Tap tap tap. They shared a glance. Their best friend had not taken their explanations with the amused good humour that they'd vainly hoped for. Tap tap tap. The scowl bespangling her brow stirred up old memories from their schooldays and inspired in Harry a primal urge to flee. Tap tap tap. It seemed she was displeased to have woken up two days ago on a pink divan surrounded by seven fluffy pure-white kneazles meowing for their breakfast. Tap tap tap. Even less pleased to discover that she now sported the sickly-sweet face and simpering voice of her most hated Ministry bureaucrat (one that wasn't a Death Eater, anyway), an up-and-coming rising star of the blood purist set, the future czar of Nazi-style muggle concentration camps under the Thicknesse regime. Tap tap tap.

Finally she spoke. "And what exactly were you trying to achieve with that insane ritual?" she asked calmly.

"I …" Harry paused. "I don't remember. Ron, what was the point of it again?"

"…"

"…"

"Fantastic," Hermione groaned, "just bloody brilliant."

"Hermione, language!" scolded a scandalised Harry.

"I may not be able to remember the exact details, but I'm confident the ritual was a key component of Project GHTUFDOS," Ron defended.

"You and your ridiculous projects," Hermione sighed.

"Enough!" said Ron firmly. "I will not hear another word against Project GHTUFDOS!"

"Even if it's the direct cause of our current predicament?"

"Women cannot understand the principle of manly bonding through booze, bars and carousing," Ron proclaimed wisely.

"And yet," said Hermione, coming out of her reverie, "I doubt you'd find a woman who'd drink enough booze to drown a donkey, take enough magical drugs to knock out a nundu, and then make up a time-and-universe-shaking ritual on the fly that causes her and her friends to end up in the middle of a civil war in the bodies of their mortal enemies."

"Uh… yes … well …" Ron was reluctant to concede his pwnage. "Hermione, you _can_ get us out of this mess, right?" he asked hopefully. "You're brilliant at this sort of thing!"

"This is a bit more complicated than that time you belched slugs everywhere. Or the time you transfigured yourself into a blue llama. Or the time you tried to invent a spider-repelling charm and instead created the most powerful spider-attracting aura in the world. Boy, was that a fun weekend," Hermione replied sardonically. She rubbed her temples tiredly. "I'm going to need to know everything there is about this ritual you two decided to perform in my sitting room."

"Understood. Kreacher! Go to the Secret Library underneath 12 Grimmauld Place and fetch me the oldest book there, its title is the 'Necronomicon' and it's bound in human skin," Harry ordered. Hermione shuddered in disgust.

The withered creature returned momentarily with the item in question. Hermione refused to touch the 'book' directly, pulling out a frilly pink handkerchief to delicately accept it from Harry.

"Oh well, I stand corrected," she said cuttingly, "performing any magic written in a book made of human skin and written in human blood, with the giant words 'danger' and 'do not open, faint of heart and weak of will' in Latin on the cover, seems like by far the most rational and sensible course of action. How wrong I was to scold you. You've really put me in my place, boys."

"Eh, thankyou Kreacher," Harry said, manfully and heroically ducking the issue. "For future reference, these two people, Dolores "Hermione" Umbridge and Gilderoy "Ron" Lockhart, are my retainers. You are to come when they call and obey all their orders as if they came from Lord Black himself. Unless of course, they contradict my orders. Do you understand?"

Kreacher examined the two humans with his huge, hateful yellow eyes. His sneer was surprisingly half-hearted though. "Kreacher understands. At least revolting boggart-breath master has basic decency to associate with pureblood retainers, born in a gutter though they be," he growled maliciously.

"Glad to have your vote of confidence," Harry replied sarcastically. "You may go for now."

"What was the name of this ritual?" asked Hermione, perusing the text. She leafed through the book (trying not to speculate what, or who, the parchment had been made out of), turning each page with the tip of her wand. It was definitely one of the most ancient tomes she'd encountered, so old it didn't even have any of the standard dark curses so commonly attached to such texts, designed to inflict eternal agony on the unwary reader.

"Ummm Ask Brent or something like that?" Harry hazarded.

"Ass Bent?"

"Mask End?"

"Asp Trend?"

"Ash Tent?"

"Ash Ketchum?"

"AshkEnte?" Hermione interjected in dread.

"Sounds about right." Harry didn't like the ashen hue her skin started to acquire.

"Oh sweet Merlin," she muttered to herself.

"Oh boy," Ron whispered to Harry, "that sounded bad."

"This is going to take some time to figure out," Hermione said shakily. "And by that, I mean a lot of time. Possibly even years and years."

"Oh Mordred, how did this misfortune happen to us?" Ron moaned piteously.

"How did this happen?! How? You dare ask that question, Ronald Bilius Weasley!?" she snapped in sudden ferocity. "You are, without a doubt, the most boneheaded, self-centred, insensitive wart I have ever had the misfortune to meet! Deciding to do a world-changing ritual while off your rocker and working from a half-completed set of instructions? What could go wrong hmmmm? Did you ever stop to think about _what_ was in the room you did this rite in?"

"Ummm books?" he offered lamely.

"And what else?" Hermione enunciated slowly, as if explaining combustion engines to a particularly dim toddler. Without waiting for his response, she answered her own question: "Wormtail's silver hand," pointing at Harry. "Your old wand, the one who's last spell was that of a certain DADA teacher who tried to obliviate the two of you, and so was probably still saturated with his magical signature," pointing at Ron. "Pictures of Harry's parents and your uncles. Harry's photo-album was on one of the shelves. Harry's Firebolt that Umbridge confiscated. The remains of Slytherin's locket that we had to retrieve from Umbridge's possession. The jar of faerie wings I had on the mantelpiece. Faerie wings, which as I'm sure you geniuses knew, are the raw materials quantum quartz crystal sand is made out of, which is the primary component of time turners. For all I know, the scars on the back of Harry's hand from his detentions with Umbridge may even have had an influence! And so on and so forth. Gee, I wonder, I just _wonder_ how we ended up in this mess? It's a complete mystery," she finished sarcastically.

The two miscreants hung their heads in shame. "It's pure luck that the three of us weren't atomised, and our particles scattered across the length and breadth of the solar system," she concluded, carefully storing the dread tome into an inner pocket. "In any case, the question now is, what are we going to do while we're stuck in this time?"

"Same plan as always," Harry offered. "Destroy Voldie, destroy Death Eaters, overthrow pureblood privilege and systemic discrimination?"

"Sounds about as good an approach as any," Hermione conceded. "Especially if we end up trapped here permanently. I'd rather live in a society I'd actually be proud to tell outsiders about."

"Alright, we've already taken some strides in that direction. You may have heard about the disappearance of students from Hogwarts?"

"That was you, was it? Can't say I'm surprised. Why?"

"Far too dangerous to leave them loose in the wizarding world, carrying out Riddle's agenda, now and over the next few generations. 'Kill the body and the head will die'," Harry explained. "They're not like the wimpy Slytherins of our day; the Knights of Walpurgis were running rampant through Hogwarts. Started a huge brawl right in the Great Hall just because a single Slytherin was tricked in a game of exploding snap." He refrained from describing the exact circumstances of that card game, and his role therein. "It was a miracle nobody was killed or permanently maimed."

"What about the DA? Are you planning to resurrect that?"

Harry and Ron shared a surprised look. Neither had thought of that.

"Ahh, hadn't really considered it," Harry admitted sheepishly. "I've been a bit preoccupied, what with dealing with Lily Evans, the Marauders, a pushy French Veela, some time-travelling children, the Slytherins, a Lovegood who wants to perform Science on us, etc."

Hermione lifted an eyebrow. "Perform Science?"

"Oh yeah," Ron broke in, "The 'Science Of Magic', whatever that is; you can practically _feel_ the capitalisation! And don't get me started about this nutter here – he's always going on and on about our inestimable World's Greatest Scientist Pandora Lovegood: according to Pandora … as I was saying to Pandora … Pandora's of the opinion … Pandora was telling me … look at what Pandora's invented now … Pandora will figure out what happened to us … I'd make a joke about how they'll be announcing their engagement any day now, except from the way he's been carrying on the past few months with his Mum, I'm afraid they actually will!"

"Shut it you twonk, we've been over this already!"

"You're going to have to tell me all about your misadventures in detail. But that will have to wait for another time, it's getting late and I have" her toadlike face scrunched into a moue of disgust, "work tomorrow at the DCRMC. Can't believe I ended up stuck in the rat maze that is the Ministry of Magic, in spite of all my best efforts. Nevertheless, I think it may be advisable to reinstate the DA; there are a lot of enemies out there, enemies we really don't want to be facing all by ourselves. Unless you think we can rely on the Order of the Phoenix to back us up?"

Harry shook his head. "I thought about that, but I really can't see how it would help. Sure, maybe we could collaborate or something down the line, but they were barely effective during the second war. What exactly did they achieve? Gather information? That was all Snape, all the time. Guard the Prophecy Orb? All that did was send poor Mr Weasley to St Mungos. Put guards around Privet Drive to 'protect me'? All that did was block all my mail and isolate me from everything and everyone. Didn't prevent the starvings, forced labour, random beatings or smacks in the head with a frying pan from my 'loving' relatives, so I'm skeptical as to how effectively they'd ward off Death Eater attacks. In fact," he mused, "the sole time they _did_ have to fight off a Death Eater attack, a bunch of people got killed. And Hedwig." His eyes closed in grief.

Ron patted him on the back comfortingly. "Then it's settled," he said roughly. "We'll set up the DA the way _we_ want it to run, and Dumbles and his Order can just get with the program if they want to help!" He abruptly started giggling. "Sorry, sorry. The irony of Dolores Umbridge herself recommending the establishment of the DA, it just hit me," he snickered. Harry managed a weak smile.

"I may turn SPEW-SPUG into an actual organisation fighting for creatures' rights," Hermione mused.

"We've already received several donations and expressions of interest," Harry murmured, trying to pull himself together. "You can start with them." Hermione nodded. "I'll tell Goldenrod that you're in charge of all that."

"Since you're an adult, you could probably organise your own version of the DA, out in the real world," Ron added. "And you – Umbridge, probably has all sorts of connections to shady people, and could dig up all sorts of useful info, amirite?"

Hermione nodded reluctantly. "That's true enough."

"All right," said Harry with characteristic decisiveness. "I'm in. We've come this far, we'd be fools not to ride this strange torpedo all the way out to the end."

"Then it's settled," Ron said with uncharacteristic decisiveness. "For now though, Harry's tired, and we need to get back to our dorms before they start releasing the hounds."

"Then Harry can be on his way – you and I need to have a long, long discussion right now, O boyfriend-of-mine," she growled, with barely hidden menace. "Don't think I don't know who was the 'brains' behind this whole operation."

Ron froze, halfway up. He looked desperately between Harry and his girlfriend, wracking his brains for a way out. _It's no use,_ his brain told him, _you're trapped like a rat. If you were smarter you'd be able to figure a way out of this, but you're not so just might as well –_

"Murder me, Harry!" he whispered in ill-concealed panic. Harry favoured him with a pitying glance as he abandoned his friend like a complete coward.

"Ron, the next time you decide to have some fun and want me involved," Dolores Umbridge began severely, "I'd rather you set the alarm clock rather than blow me and my bedroom to the moon and back …"

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	13. 11 Marriages and Mistresses

**Author's Note:**

This is both a HP reworking of "Back to the Future" themes, and a soft reboot/reworking of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" and other things written by Rorschach's Blot. Used with the permission of their original authors (except for "Back to the Future" of course). The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter or anything else. Full disclaimer in the Table of Contents.

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Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.

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Canon-compliant. HP&DH compliant (except the Epilogue). HP&CC compliant (except the conclusion). FB&WTFT compliant. Pottermore compliant (mostly). Some crossover with: Naruto, Ranma ½, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Twilight, Lord of the Rings and Avatar: The Last Airbender. Primarily Harry Potter though.

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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "In This World and the Next" by Robst.

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 **Chapter 11 – Marriages and Mistresses**

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Amorous little butterfly, flitting about by day and night, disturbing the rest of all those pretty women.

– _The Marriage of Figaro_

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It was a particularly overcast day when the Postman made one of his rare trips up a walkway belonging to the house of one of the more ... unusual families on his route. A family whose eccentricity was rivalled only by that of a family of redheads on one of the neighbouring routes. Knocking cautiously, the government servant wondered idly what sort of nonsensical conversation the odd family would attempt to drag him into this time. Would it be a dissertation on the possible existence of 'crumple horned snookers' or a theory that the Minister was a surgically altered monkey? Sighing in annoyance, he walked the last few steps to the threshold and knocked on the door.

"Yes?" A confused looking middle-aged man answered the door immediately. "Is it time to buy a box of Girl Scout cookies again?"

"No sir," the Postman forced a smile, "I'm here to deliver your letter, not sell you something to eat with your tea."

"Oh yes," the man's eyes lit with comprehension, "I forgot that you're still not using trained animals to do it for you."

"Not yet Mr. Lovegood," the Postman agreed through pursed lips. "Bonded and couriered mail is still forbidden by law to be transported by owl or any other predatory bird. My job is a bit too complicated and high-security to give to a trained animal."

"Well give it time," Dr Insanus Roddericus Fitzhallibut-Malfoy replied sympathetically, "I'm sure you'll figure out the trick to it soon."

"Well, I really must get back on my rounds," the Postman said, abruptly ending the conversation. "And don't forget that you can always come into town and get your mail there, you don't always have to take the time waiting for me to arrive."

"Nonsense!" Insanus waved it off with a smile, "I'm sure that you'd miss the wonderful conversations that we always find ourselves engaging in."

"I'm sure," the Postman sighed in disappointment, then turned to begin the short walk back to the road.

Insanus smirked as he watched the man leave, always keep them confused. Keep them confused, that was his motto, make it so they never notice that they forgot to ask you any important questions, like 'what are you doing in my kitchen?' or 'you're looking for what a what?' Resisting the urge to chuckle until after he had closed the door, the patriarch of the Fitzhallibut-Malfoy and Lovegood clans opened the envelope and read the contents of the letter. His eyes widened and face paled.

"Oh no," he breathed. "It's Her. She's coming for a visit." He checked his watch. "Right now."

"Fitzhallibut-Malfoy!" came a cold, supercilious voice.

The man looked up and flinched at the dreaded sights and sounds of Her. "But … but … you're supposed to be in Scotland," he protested weakly.

"Where I am is no business of yours, and you'd do well to remember that," She sneered. She brushed past him and walked directly into his house, up the stairs and into his private office, the homeowner trotting nervously behind. She wore a pristine white frock, a lacy white bonnet and a determined expression. Insanus watched as she lowered his chair and wheeled it out from behind the desk, gesturing impatiently for him to sit. Pandora sat on the edge of the desk and glared down at him.

"I'm of the mind to do a bit of business with you, Fitzhallibut-Malfoy" She said with a frown.

"What can I do for you?"

"You have an adopted daughter named Pandora I believe," Pandora said with a cruel smile.

"Yes?"

"It just so happens that I'm in the market for a young nubile girl," she laughed, "I'll give you two galleons for her."

"No! My daughter may be worth two galleons to you but to me she's worthless, I won't sell!"

"Why look what we have here," she pulled a stack of documents out of his desk, "these appear to be the deeds to your house and your racoon-shaving business ... it'd be a right shame if you lost them now hmmm? You know what nargles do to homeless young girls, after all."

"No, you can't!" he sobbed. "She's all I have!"

"All you had," Pandora corrected. "Sign the paperwork!"

"How will I break the news to my poor innocent baby girl?" the man wailed as he dutifully signed.

"That's not my problem, Fitzhallibut-Malfoy," Pandora said coldly. "I believe our business here is concluded."

"Wait," he begged as she was about to walk out of the room, "what do you plan to do with my innocent little girl?"

"Lord Potter-Black has just become engaged to a French Baroness and she feels he'd enjoy a little something as a side-dish to seal the deal," she replied with a smirk. "I dare say your little girl won't be innocent much longer, bwahahahahahahahha!" Her cruel laughter echoed in his ears as she walked out of his office.

"Why," he sobbed, "why did I ... oh Frigg, what have I done!?" He took several deep breaths before walking to the door. "Pandora," he called in a whisper. Clearing his voice, the next summons came at a yell. "PANDORAAAA, come quickly!"

"What is it, Daddy?" Pandora skipped into his office in her skintight black bodysuit and looked up at him with wide, guileless, trusting eyes. "Is it National Yell For Your Daughter Day today?"

"There is no National Yell For Your Daughter Day." His lips pursed in annoyance. "Those closed-minded idiots at the Ministry rejected our proposal for it last year."

"I know, I was hoping that they had reconsidered and decided to approve it," Pandora answered sweetly. "If that wasn't it, then what?"

"I … I have some bad news for you," Insanus sighed regretfully. "I ... I'm afraid Pandora has bought you and intends to give you to Lord Potter-Black as an engagement present," he said haltingly, head hanging in shame.

Pandora tilted her head to the side. "That can't be right. That would be the nicest thing she ever did for me and I'm wearing the black suit, so I'm the Good Twin for today."

"I know, crabweed, it really threw me too."

"Unless..." Pandora examined the calendar hanging on the wall. "Nope, it's definitely my turn to play Good Pandora, so what could she be up to? I'll have to check this out." The girl stroked the pencil-thin Snidely Whiplash moustache she'd painted on her upper lip and went off to investigate.

Insanus sighed and leaned back in his chair. Raising twins was stressful work, thank Merlin he was only raising the one. He couldn't imagine the stress of raising two pairs like the McKinnons. _I wonder where they keep the evil Alice and Marlene, you never see them around._

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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Good Pandora double-checked her last set of skimpy underwear and ensured it was securely stored in her trunk. Satisfied, she snapped the lid shut and shrank it, skipping downstairs, where her adoptive father hovered anxiously.

"I know you've been sold like a slab of meat to be a Lord's bed-warmer, rutabaga, but just because you're now his lowly plaything tasked with slaking his every dark lust and sick whim, doesn't mean you have to … you know, go all the way …" he gestured uncertainly.

"What do you mean, Father?"

"I mean ... there's no reason to buy a cow if you can get the milk for free," Insanus said, looking uncomfortable. "Do you understand what I'm saying, lemongrass?"

"I think so," Pandora chirped. "You found someone willing to give us free milk."

"No, that's not what I'm saying at all," he replied.

"So ... we're getting a cow?" she asked slowly.

"No, we're not getting a cow."

"Why not?"

"What?"

"I think a pet cow would be lovely."

"Oh no, this would be just like your rat and you know how that ended up."

"It drank some of my experimental potions, grew to a thousand times its normal size and destroyed one of the neighbours' houses?"

"Right," he agreed.

"But I never liked that house," she sniffed. "So it was all to the good."

"Neither did I," her father admitted. "Spoiled the view of the house behind it."

"Which is much more interesting, architecturally."

"The brickwork on the chimney is something I could stare at for hours," he agreed. _Hopefully I'll have more free time after Xenophilius takes over the family business,_ he thought wistfully to himself.

"So what kind of cow should we get?" Pandora asked, trying to get the conversation back to what she thought was the original topic.

"I was thinking a Holstein," Insanus replied. "That way we could get matching shoes."

"Good idea," she praised. "I look forward to seeing them when I return. I've finished packing, and all my Science equipment is already in my lab at Hogwarts." She twirled around in a circle, arms outstretched to show off her naughty schoolgirl outfit. "So what do you think, Daddy? I'm Pandora Selene Lovegood, Lovegood by name, Love very Good by reputation."

"Go to back up to your room, kumquat," Insanus replied calmly. "You're not going back to Hogwarts until after I've finished performing all those chastity rituals."

"I'm sure I could get Lord Potter-Black and Baroness Delacour to join me there," Pandora giggled as she skipped up the stairs.

"The house has wards," her father replied.

"I'm sure they could get through those as easily as breathing," Pandora smirked.

"Well then, go to my room while I impersonate you with Polyjuice," Insanus nodded. It was a foolproof plan.

"No!" Pandora stuck out her tongue. " _You_ go to your room while _I_ do whatever I want!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

"Fine. Farewell, Father, I go to face my Destiny!" She skipped over to the fire, tossed in a handful of powder and shouted out, "Hogwarts Infirmary!" Then she squealed in delight as she felt herself spin wildly around the Floo network on her way to her destination.

"Good night, sweet princess, and may flights of angels protect you," he brushed away a tear from his eye, as she away. With heavy heart, Insanus went to his bedroom for his time-out to think about what he'd done.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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Harry stepped up to the Charms Professor's Office and knocked on the door three times. This was it, his first step in making the HA what the DA should have been the first time around.

"Yes," the diminutive man answered. "What can I do for you, Mr Pettigrew?"

"Professor Flitwick, I need to speak with you," Harry said firmly.

"One of _those_ conversations?"

"Yes," Harry agreed.

"Come in then and tell me what this is all about. Have a seat," Filius ordered. He waited until the young man was in his chair before continuing the conversation. "What is it, Mr Pettigrew?"

"I heard you used to be a duelling champion," Harry said, shooting an intense stare across the desk at his Charms Professor.

"And?" Filius prompted, having an idea of how the conversation was going to go.

"We need to learn how to fight," Harry said bluntly. "We need to learn enough to destroy Voldemort."

"Do you now?" The man stroked his chin. "Are you willing to do whomever it takes?"

"Anything," Harry agreed.

"Who's we?"

"Myself and my friends."

"Revenge?"

"So we can protect those who are left. Please, Professor," he said intently. "Please."

"This 'we' includes Lily Evans?"

"Yes."

"I'd considered apprenticing Lily but I suppose that isn't going to happen if what you're implying is true," Filius mused.

"I don't think she's set any plans in stone, but with the times ..." Harry trailed off. "Her highest priority at the moment seems to be avoiding being put into the ground by age 20 …"

"Do what you can today, for you may not be alive tomorrow," Filius agreed.

"Yes," Harry agreed.

Filius thought it over for a few moments. "Have Lily speak with me later then," he said finally. "I have a few charms that she might like to go over."

"What about the rest of us?" Harry persisted.

"I'd suggest that you speak with Professor McGonagall about using transfiguration in combat settings," Filius offered. "And Professor Scamander-Goldstein for combat tactics."

"So you're not going to teach us?" Harry's face fell.

"I didn't say that." The small man smiled. "Tell me, Mr Pettigrew: when building a house, what do you do first, the foundation or the roof?"

"Yes, Professor," Harry said.

"Come back when you can run five miles in 45 minutes, do 100 push-ups and 200 sit-ups without stopping, and can swim across the Black Lake and back. Then and only then will you be able to benefit from what I have to teach you."

"Thank you, Professor." Harry gave a deep, formal bow. "I owe you more then you will ever know."

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˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ ….

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Sirius awoke with a start the next morning as he was unceremoniously dumped out of bed and onto the floor of the dorm.

"Wake up," Harry said blearily.

"What in the bloody hell are you doing, getting us up this early?" Sirius demanded.

"Breakfast is served in three hours, the Library opens in four, and we've got a lot of work to do." Harry smirked. "Unless you were all talk when you said you'd be willing to do everything it took."

"Didn't realise that everything it took included getting up at bloody 4am," Sirius protested as he pulled on his boots. "Was in the bloody Library till it closed last night."

"And I was there next to you," Harry retorted. "Flitwick won't teach us till we can pass his bloody physical test."

"The others up already?" Sirius asked.

"Remus and James are," Harry yawned. "And Lily and Pandora are the ones that woke me up."

"Let's go then." Sirius laughed. "The more we bleed in training, the more the Death Eaters will bleed when it's real."

"And the less we will," Harry agreed.

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˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ ….

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Lily plastered a confident grin on her face as she stepped into the Hospital Wing.

Pettigrew was a driven man, a man determined to keep his family and friends alive and that attitude had, for lack of a better term, infected them all. Remus and Xenophilius were spending every spare minute in the Library, James and Sirius were off Morgana-knows-where doing Mordred-knows-what, and Frank and Gilderoy were practicing offensive magic until casting it became second nature. That left her to learn a vital bit of magic that their little group was not already stocking up on frantically. _Boys,_ she sniffed, _spending all their time learning how to break things_.

"What can I do for you, Miss Evans?" Madame Valentine's voice dragged Lily back to reality.

"I'm sorry," Lily said with a faint blush on her cheeks. "I was lost in thought."

"A good place to be," Madame Valentine replied with a smile. "You aren't feeling sick, are you?"

"No," Lily assured the woman. "I was wondering if I could learn a bit of healing magic from you."

"You'd like to become a healer?" the mediwitch asked in surprise.

"Maybe eventually," Lily demurred. "For now, I'd just like to learn enough to ... with everything that's happening I thought it might be a good idea to know a bit of healing."

"I understand," Madame Valentine said warmly.

"The boys are all focused on learning how to stay alive in a fight," Lily confessed. "I thought it might be a good idea to learn how to keep them alive afterwards."

"Not to mention how useful knowing a bit of healing will be after you become a mother," the other woman added cheerfully, smiling at the girl's blush. "Wait one moment." She dashed into her office and re-emerged with a slip of paper clutched in her hands. "This is a permission slip to check a few books on healing out of the Restricted wing. Come back after you've read the first three and we can get started on the practical stuff."

"Thank you, Madame Valentine."

"And don't hesitate to ask me if you have any questions," she added to the girl's retreating back.

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˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ ….

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"Uh, Pandora, Odd, may I have a word with you in private?" Harry asked the Odd couple as the latest HA meeting drew to a close. The others began to coalesce into their constituent groups and drift out of the room. Ron shot him a curious glance, but Harry gave him the exploring-possibilities-will-discuss-later-if-it-turns-out-not-to-be-a-wild-niffler-chase signal. He nodded, and trotted off after Apolline and Amélie to return to Ravenclaw Tower.

"Of course, my good Blubber," Xenophilius agreed grandly. Pandora gave a distracted nod, still muttering and scratching notes onto her ever-present parchment. "What is it?"

Harry waited, quiet as a churchmouse, until the last student had left the room. "I was wondering if you'd be interested in significantly weakening Voldemort's forces?"

"Well naturally, Lab Rat," Pandora snapped irritably, "we are part of the Army aren't we? Or is the HA just some sort of front to deceive students into joining the local branch of the Rotfang Conspiracy?" Harry ignored her acerbic tone. He knew how cranky she could get when she was tired, and it was already past curfew. Absently he passed her the emergency banana he always carried for just such a purpose. He snatched his hand back as she pounced on the fruit and almost swallowed it whole.

"I've been thinking," he said.

"Always a dangerous practice," she acknowledged gravely, transfiguring the banana peel into a strange small yellow creature with five wings and two dozen eyes. With a weak 'eyore', it launched itself into the air and made its (uneven) bid for freedom. "Have you been taking regular breaks and hydrating frequently? Be careful not to strain yourself. Perhaps you should leave such heavy lifting to the more experienced in future?" Odd nodded in solemn agreement.

"Hilarious," he replied sardonically as the three of stretched out in comfort onto the nearest divan. "You've undoubtedly missed your true calling as comedians on the Mad Muggle Hour on the wireless. 'And now it's time for Pan and Xen'. You could call yourselves Pan-Xen-Monium." Odd actually looked interested in the concept, to Harrys' chagrin. Before their conversation could jump its tracks completely, he hastily added, "But back to the important issue – you no doubt know how important your 'esteemed' Head of family Abraxas Malfoy is to Voldemort's war effort, don't you?" Harry asked intently. "Wars are won by gold after all ..."

"And House Malfoy has a lot of gold," Pandora sighed. "Possibly the most in magical Europe. So you're saying we should kill my uncle?"

"At a minimum," Harry agreed. "Lucius has already vanished into thin aether, but unless we can find a way to neutralise the rest of them without killing them, then they'll have to go as well. By 'the rest of them' I mean anyone else who's likely to inherit the Malfoy Lordship that's sympathetic to the Dark Tosser's goals. Otherwise, it's just exchanging hippogriff dung for griffin dung while rearranging litterboxes on the deck of Atlantis."

"I take it that you have a way to do that, don't you?" Pandora asked calmly, neither of them seemed the slightest bit fazed at casually discussing the genocide of their extended family.

"I might," Harry said cautiously. "But I'd need to know the answer to a couple questions: First, according to the Malfoy Family Rules of inheritance, how many people aside from Abraxas and Lucius would need to be 'neutralised' before the Headship fell to either one of you?"

The two Malfoys glanced at each other for an extended silent conversation. Harry waited patiently, wondering idly what the thumb war was intended to convey.

"If dear Uncle Abraxas and Cousin Lucius carked it, then the Lordship would pass to me, were it not for my 'misfortune' of being born a female," said Pandora finally. "Another two dozen at least before it fell to Xenophilius."

"But if you were married at the time…?"

"Then the Lordship would fall to my husband, if there wasn't a suitable born Malfoy male within three degrees of separation."

"What do you mean by 'suitable'? Pureblood?"

"Well ... the first thing you have to understand is that there are different levels of pureblood. Status is based on a combination of money and how long you can trace your magical line. The Potter family, for example, is about the middle of both, while the Houses Weasley and Prewett, for example, have long, long lines but no money. The Blacks have both in spades. In this case, 'suitable' means both lineage and a certain wealth threshold. I can't remember what the cut-off is."

"And would you be willing to ah … get married, in order get the Lordship away from those Death Eater scum?" To his joy, Pandora nodded enthusiastically. Harry sighed in relief. "That makes things a lot easier. My second question is, are any of the people within these three or four degrees of separation, in your expert opinions, in any way redeemable or worth sparing? That goes for the entirety of your extended family, really." Another long pause.

"The only ones I can think of are the Lovegood clan and the Fitzhallibut-Malfoys," she said slowly. Odd nodded his agreement.

"Could you do me a favour and write out a list of all those people? Wouldn't want to hurt anyone you care about."

"We can do that. Oh yes indeed," Pandora started chuckling and rubbing her hands together in a way that thoroughly unnerved him. An unholy fire gleamed in her eyes, a sight usually only reserved for when she was revelling in the delights of Science!

"Oooo-kay… If you can get that to me before Christmas Break, I'll set things in motion to deal with the Malfoys. The marriage will have to be registered before then."

"Easily done."

"In which case, I wish you both a long and fulfilling union, Lord and Lady Malfoy."

Pandora blinked. "What do you mean by that, beloved?"

"Uh, wishing you and Odd a happy marriage?" he replied in confusion. Confusion that was mirrored in the faces of the other two people in the room.

"What are you talking about, Blubber?" asked Odd uncertainly.

"Erm, you two are, like … _together_ , right?"

"Of course not," Pandora shot back impatiently. "Are you mad?! What would give you such a flantabulistically whippelish idea as that?"

"Huh? But… I mean… you two are always together, and I … I just assumed …"

"Don't be ridiculous – he's a minion! Everyone knows you Never marry your own minions! Sets a bad example for the others: soon they'd all be wanting special treatment, extra days off, and avoiding canary duty, lab rat duty, guinea pig duty, mucking out the cages, mopping up the failed experiments, polishing my throne, and so on."

"Then who were you expecting to marr– ah."

"Hmmm, your intelligence seems to be dropping at an alarming rate over the past few days," she murmured to herself. The giant magnifying glass was back in her hand. "A rigorous regime of potions combined with several large biomechanical implants in the amygdala may be appropriate …"

Harry began to frantically review other potential options. Xeno didn't appear the slightest bit interested in becoming a rival suitor. _Dammit, he must've fallen for her later on._ _Merlin man, stand up and fight for your woman!_ Unfortunately for Harry, Odd's attention had shifted to a crack in the stone wall, which he was now staring at in absolute fascination. Suddenly Harry thought of a lifeline and grasped for it with both hands.

"Hang on, it can't possibly be me – you just said that a Lord Malfoy had to be a suitable pureblood! I'm a filthy low-born halfblood!"

"You're different," Pandora said with a frown. "Normally somebody of your status wouldn't even be considered, that is correct. But you've turned yourself into a wild card, one can insert you into any level of society without too much difficulty. One must remember that you are not simply Peter Pettigrew, the halfblood nobody, you are also Lord Black and Lord Potter, and those are titles that carry quite a bit of weight. I don't think anyone will object to you taking up the Malfoy mantle."

"I need to think about this," Harry said weakly, "I can't just ... I need to think about this."

"I understand," Pandora sighed in disappointment. "But please agree, even if you don't want me yourself, please agree to this."

"Why is this so important to you?"

"Because by and large, Malfoys don't die in accidents."

"I don't ..."

"My parents. Were a threat," Pandora explained. "And so are you and so am I."

"You're saying Abraxas was responsible for the death of your parents?"

"I'm saying that members of the Malfoy family don't tend to die in accidents," Pandora said firmly, in a way that made Harry's heart clench painfully. "And that that was a particularly convenient week for my dear Uncle. I'm not saying any more than that, I will say however that it was what convinced the Hat to put me in Ravenclaw."

"How's that?"

"Slytherin Pandora is a threat, but not a large one. With Slughorn in control of the House, she won't be difficult to break or dispose of. Simply a matter of a few favours exchanged here and there," Pandora spoke in an odd tone. "Gryffindor Pandora is just as bad, courageous but also a black mark on the Malfoy name, she'll have to come to some misfortune. Hufflepuff Pandora is also bad, but since she never really had friends, it wasn't much of a possibility. Ravenclaw Pandora on the other hand ... she's not as bad as the other three, but she'll have to work to convince the world that she's harmless, not too hard to do mind you. Ravenclaws have no common sense and wouldn't look underneath the underneath of anything if they didn't have to."

"So that's why you're always doing odd things, screaming and laughing out loud," Harry said.

"Mad Scientist Lovegood isn't a threat," Pandora explained with a shrug. "And no one takes her seriously, you'd be surprised what people will say around you when they think you won't understand or care what they say. Much the same way that innocent and timid little Peter gets overlooked, no one questions it."

"I'm in," Harry said suddenly, making another of his famously reckless impulsive decisions. He smiled. It wasn't a nice smile, it was the smile of a boy who'd spent 10 years living in a cupboard and working as a slave, and another 10 fighting other people's wars. It was the smile of a boy who'd once promised Luna Lovegood that he'd never allow anyone else to hurt her or her family ever again. "I presume you have a plan ... wife?"

"Naturally, beloved," Pandora giggled. "The first step is to sign these betrothal papers." A stack of official legal-y looking documents appeared.

"Whoa! How did you get hold of them so fast?"

"Oh, I've had these for ages. Apolline gave them to me the day she introduced us."

"Figures," he mumbled, accepting the quill that Odd had pulled out of his sleeve.

"I would be most honoured to act as witness for the happy occasion," he intoned solemnly. It was a matter of minutes to sign and witness the documents. Pandora passed him his personal copy and promised to mail the originals to the Ministry and Gringotts for notarisation first thing in the morning.

"Okay, aside from the demise of our enemies, what do we need to do, as married peers?" Harry asked, feeling rather lightheaded at the momentousness of these events.

"There's a whole range of things that a proper peer of the realm is expected to do to be considered in good standing in magical society. I'll write up a list. For example, you're going to need at least one mistress besides Apolline," Pandora mused. "While she's terribly adorable, she's still classed as a hybrid magical creature by the Ministry. That'll never fly with the Families. I'll work up a shortlist of possible candidates but the decision is of course yours."

"Why do I need a mistress?" Harry demanded.

"Social standing," Pandora elaborated. "You don't actually have to do anything with her ... or him I suppose, but you need to maintain at least one to show that you can afford the expense."

"What about you?"

"It's tolerated so long as I'm discreet and wait until after your heir is born," Pandora replied. "It's accepted after your heir has an heir of his own, why do you ask?"

"…"

"Oh Peter, you silly boy, I wasn't planning to have a boyfriend on the side. You don't have to worry about that."

"Then why do you want me to have a girl on the side?" Harry demanded.

"I told you," Pandora sighed in exasperation. "Social standing. You'll look like a saint if you marry poor crazy Pandora Selene Lovegood, you'll look like an idiot if you don't have someone on the side to keep you relaxed."

"Why should I care about social standing?" Harry said with what Pandora and Odd thought to be an adorable pout.

"Because like it or not, you're an icon," Pandora explained. "You the Lord of two Ancient and Noble Houses. If we can hold you up as at least one of the alternatives to You-Know-Who, then I'm sure we can get at least a few of the Families to side with you. Then, if we can start a credible rumour that one of the Dark Tosser's grandparents was a muggle or something along those lines, then we may be able to lure a few families away from his side. None of that is possible if you don't go through the correct motions."

"Why?"

"Because the more people on our side the faster this war will end in our favour," Pandora said in exasperation. "The less we have the faster it will end in their favour."

"No, I mean why should we start a rumour that one of Voldemort's grandparents was a muggle?"

"Because it'll make him less palatable to the purebloods," Pandora said slowly. "Would you like me to explain that?"

"Why should we start a rumour if we can prove that one of his parents was a muggle?"

"What!?" Pandora and Odd jerked back in shock.

"His father was a muggle," Harry said. "Didn't you know that?"

"You can prove this?" she asked intently.

"Shouldn't be too difficult," Harry agreed.

"Oh ..." Pandora went cross-eyed and she shuddered in pleasure. "You know just what to say to a girl don't you, Peter?"

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˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ ….

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Harry left the room in a daze and wandered with unseeing eyes through the dark, empty corridors for an unknown amount of time, until his arm was grabbed and he was dragged into a small sitting room. It was a testament to the level of shell-shock he was feeling that he didn't even object or draw his wand.

"So, what happened?" Ron demanded. "You three were cloistered in there for ages! I was starting to worry."

"I … I think I just got engaged?"

"What?! To whom?"

"Uh, Pandora." He raised his right hand and showed Ron his copy of the betrothal contract clutched therein. Ron's eyes widened comically, an expression that looked even sillier plastered over the foppish face of Gilderoy Lockhart.

"You got yourself engaged to Loony Lovegood's even loonier Mum?" he demanded incredulously. "The one who laughs maniacally and screams 'Science!' all the time? The one who looks at you as a glorified guinea pig to vivisect and reassemble in different ways? The one who let the French bird give her to you as a concubine just so she'd have more opportunities to poke and prod and experiment on your fragile person …?" He shook his head in dismay. Harry couldn't help grimacing a bit. _Sheesh, when you put it like that, OF COURSE it sounds ominous. Calm down, brother._ "Bloody hell Harry, I can't leave you alone for a minute, can I? I'da thought you'd learnt your lesson after doing weird, unknown rituals with your Mum." Harry blanched. _Don't say it that way, you twonk!_ But Ron, not bothering to try and read his thoughts, steamrolled on. "And look how that turned out. Magically married to your own Mum, who also happens to hate your guts! And now you're telling me you're willingly going to go through with another marriage? Has time travel scrambled your brains, you stupid brummie? Should we go grab a replacement for you from that brain tank at the Department of Mysteries?"

"It's for a good cause…" Harry objected weakly. Ron crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

"Look, I'll tell you all about it later. Right now I just want to get some sleep, 'kay?" he rubbed his eyes tiredly. "In the meantime, do me a favour? Make a list of every Death Eater, Death Nibbler wannabe, Voldemort sympathiser and blood purist asshole you can remember. Even just suspected, if you're pretty sure about it. Could you also owl Hermione and get her to do the same thing? Have her add anyone else she knows about in the Ministry, or anyone who's egregiously corrupt. And not in the good way. Take your time and be thorough. I'll need both lists before the Christmas hols."

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˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ ….

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For the past several days, Lily had been alternating between annoyed and confused. Pettigrew had been acting odd and spending a lot of time around Pandora. At first, she'd figured that the two of them had finally discovered their hormones and decided to make lemonade out of Apolline's crazy matchmaking lemons – er, schemes. Lily was honestly happy that they had picked up a new hobby, a hobby, incidentally, that kept them well away from her. But that little fact had nothing to do with her attitude, no siree! But then she started noticing little things that threw off her original theory, and that made her confused. Lily had always hated being confused so that made her annoyed; after calming, she again considered her classmates' odd behaviour, which again made her confused and restarted the entire cycle. In addition, her gossip quotient had fallen alarmingly low lately, and if anything annoyed her as much as being confused, it was being out of the gossip loop. Her insatiable curiosity would not allow it. So it was no surprise that she jumped at the chance when she received a request that she make time for a serious discussion.

"Have a seat please," Pandora said serenely as Lily walked into her lab. "Did Peter tell you why I wished to meet with you?"

"No. He didn't," she replied flatly. The fact that this discussion was with Pandora Lovegood of all people was threatening to push her into confusion again.

"You should really learn to hide your emotions better, Lily ... I had to."

Making sure to keep her wand accessible, she regarded the other girl with a guarded look. "What's this about, Miss Lovegood?"

"Peter is going to marry me" Pandora said calmly, indifferent to the shock blossoming over her colleague's face.

"What?!" Lily squawked.

"It's because of an arrangement between our families," Pandora explained. "The benefits are rather large and consequences of ignoring it are rather dire."

"That's barbaric!" Lily was appalled.

"Barbaric or not, it's what is going to happen." Pandora sighed. Why was it so much more difficult to deal with the brilliant ones than the mindless amoebic blobs she usually had to put up with? "Miss Evans, I wanted to know if you would like a position in our household. I would like you to promise to hear me out."

"I'm not going to like this am I?"

"Promise."

"Okay, I promise to listen to you."

"Good," Pandora said with a satisfied smile. "As you know, Peter has grown to depend on your assistance, and it would not be far off to state that you are his closest female friend. Further, I do not believe that he will survive this war without it. Now as I said, I'd like you to consider taking a position in our household. I know that Apolline has already sounded you out on the subject several times, but I'm not aware that you've given a definite answer?" She cocked her head. Not receiving a response from the speechless Head Girl, she decided to press on. "Before you answer, you should know that no matter what you decide, people already assume that you are Peter's mistress."

"I'd never ..."

"Don't say never," Pandora interrupted. "Because one of the positions I'd like you to consider taking is the position of Peter's mistress."

"Mistress?" Lily squeaked.

"It's expected that a wizard of his social standing will have at least one mistress," Pandora said calmly. "Or a stable of boys I suppose ... it's not important which. It's one of a number of accepted status symbols that the wizarding elite cultivate to demonstrate their superiority. Peter will need to adopt at least a few of these if he wishes to be taken seriously as a gentleman of means. Things like owning both a Manor and an expensive country home, being a patron of the arts, travelling to the major destinations of the wizarding world, like the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, the Library of Alexandria, the Hidden City of Shambhala, and so forth, and of course, maintaining a cadre of educated, talented and sophisticated mistresses. Before you say anything, I think you should know that you don't actually have to _do_ anything and you would have several opportunities that would otherwise not exist."

"What do you mean by opportunities?"

"A muggleborn witch who wants to have an impact on society at large has three main paths to choose from, either: find a low level position in the Ministry if she knows who to be 'friendly' to; leave the magical world, as most do; or become the kept woman of a rich and/or powerful pureblood wizard. If she chooses the latter, then several career choices open up to her. Wouldn't want to annoy her patron after all."

"I find it hard to believe that magical society is so ... so ..."

"Bigoted? Insular? Backward?" Pandora suggested. "All adjectives that muggleborns have used to describe it in the past. Didn't you ever wonder why there's never been a muggleborn Minister for Magic? Or why our Muggle Studies Professor is a proper pureblood rather than a muggleborn?"

"It never ... I didn't ..."

"You were too distracted by how wonderful magic is and you never thought to look under the surface," Pandora said gently. "All I am saying is that Peter needs you, you wouldn't have to ... to do things with him if you didn't want to, and it would be to your benefit to agree to my proposal."

"You're supposed to be his wife, Pandora!" Lily exclaimed in distress. "Why are you asking me to do these things?"

"Our match is not based on love," Pandora began. Suddenly the girl looked very vulnerable. "I hope it will be ... I certainly like Peter, he's a fascinating test subject, and he ... he's nice to me when not many people are. Lets me poke and prod and run him through the Deflorigallator whenever I want without a word of complaint. I want him to be happy to be with me and I want to defeat Voldemort, your presence will help with both of those goals."

Lily felt a wave of sympathy for the girl. This was clearly important to her, and Lily didn't have the heart to flip her off and walk away. "Ooo-kay, let's think about this," she temporised. "According to you (and Apolline I guess) Pettigrew'll need a mistress." Pandora nodded. "It doesn't have to be me though. I'm sure there are plenty of other eligible witches who'd make the cut, we shouldn't ignore them." _Like that cow MacDonald. She's been having far too much fun at my expense this term; it's only fair to pay it forward._ "We need to research it and make a list."

"You're right. But I've made a list already. These are all the eligible girls at Hogwarts, the cream of the crop."

"Let me see ..." Lily snatched the scroll from Pandora's hand. "Hmmm ... not bad ... good choice ... this one wouldn't work ... mmm ... Pandora?"

"Yes, Lily?"

"Uhm... I don't see my name here. I thought you said this was the cream of the crop. Is there a reason why I'm not listed? Not that I'm interested, just curious ..."

"Well... to be honest, the only reason Apolline and I have approached you at is because Peter seems so fond of you. Please don't take offense, but on a purely objective level, I don't think that you'd really qualify. Remember, being a mistress requires high standards of education, talent and sophistication ..."

"WHAT?! ... Education?! Not qualified?! Are you saying ..."

Pandora smiled. She was confident that the problem of Lily dithering around and refusing to commit would soon be solved.

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˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ ….

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"Lily! There you are! I need your help!" Harry burst into Pandora's lab and stopped, noticing at last that she and Pandora were in the middle of a heart-to-heart.

"Hello, Peter," Pandora chirped brightly. "Did you want to discuss our upcoming nuptials with Lily?"

"Uhhh yes actually. What's going on?"

"Us girls are just seeing to the wedding plans of course!"

"Ah yeah, Pandora. I've been thinking about our betrothal, and, ah, maybe we were a bit hasty in deciding things …" he trailed off lamely. Both girls were regarding him with unreadable expressions on their flawless faces.

Pandora frowned. "Now now Peter, it's perfectly normal to get cold feet, but you need to get ahold of yourself. Are you a man or a mouse? Time to shape up, straighten out and fly right, and all those other assorted clichés I can't be bothered to trot out (or remember). Be a man, or as close to one as you can get."

He looked frantically to Lily for help. "But but but … you see it's not possible after all. I'd completely forgotten that I'm already married, aren't I? As a result of that ritual. Isn't that right, _honey_?" He directly that last comment to the redhead. Lily's face was, disconcertingly, developing a smile filled with sadistic glee, rather than the sympathetic air he was hoping for. _Oh no, that's not encouraging_.

"I for one think your engagement is a wonderful idea," Lily said sweetly. "Don't worry _sweetheart_ , everybody knows that it was merely a minor, unexpected side effect of that ritual which tricked a few magical records into thinking we were married. But of course, we're really not; leaving you free as a bird to unite with your _true love_ …" Harry threw her a betrayed look, which only widened her smirk.

Pandora added, "Besides, who says you have to stick to only one wife?"

What is the sound of two jaws dropping?

"But that's bigamy!" Lily objected.

"Maybe in the muggle world. Here the law prevents muggleborns from polygamy, but there are no such restrictions for the pureblood elite; as Head of two Ancient and Noble Houses, Peter's about as blue-blooded as you can get."

"But do you really want to share, Pandora?"

"Why not?" Pandora really couldn't see why her friend was making such a big deal of it. Harry/Peter had given her something she'd never thought she'd be able to achieve on her own, something she'd wanted since she was a small girl. He'd given her a means to avenge her parents. Pandora Lovegood was an odd girl by all accounts, but she always paid her debts, and as far as she was concerned, she owed him a lot. With a silent nod, she resolved to do everything in her power to make their match a happy one. Even if her friend was trapped like a rat in a loveless marriage at the beginning, it didn't mean he couldn't have diversions.

"You're serious," Lily stated with growing dread.

"Naturally. The more the merrier, I say."

"I think you mean, the more subjects to experiment on the merrier," Harry replied dryly.

"In any case," Pandora said firmly, "we ladies have important wedding business to discuss, so why don't you run along. Go play a few tricks on people with your little Marauder friends for a few hours, that should settle you right down."

"But … but … fine," Harry muttered, knowing that he'd lost.

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˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ ….

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"Um, Pandora, Odd, you know how you said there was a possibility that if the dark families found out that Voldemort was a halfblood, some of the Traditionalists could turn against him …?" Harry began, some days later.

"What of it?"

"What's the likelihood of that happening?"

"Hmmmm pretty good, I'd say: about 60 percent, as a rough estimate," Pandora mused.

"And what's the likelihood of the Prophet publishing something like that?"

"Less than zero, as a rough estimate."

"I thought as much. This may seem like a strange question, but: would either of you happen to have a printing press stored away somewhere?"

"You know, as a matter of fact," contemplated Odd as he stroked his non-existent beard, "I do believe that my uncle Rodger Rodericus used to produce a newspaper called _The Snorker_ , and the old press is still there in his haunted zebra knackery."

"Why in Merlin's name is it stored in a haunted zebra knackery?" Harry queried.

"Sympathetic magic."

"Huh?"

"Newspapers are also black and white and red all over," he replied calmly.

Harry groaned. "I walked right into that one."

"I see where you're going with this," said Pandora thoughtfully.

"How did you know I was going to retort with a 'why did the dinosaur cross the road?'"

"Silence, jackanape! You intend for us to take charge of Odd's uncle's haunted-zebra-knackery-printing-press; you further intend for us to use it to publish our own haunted-zebra-knackery-printing-press-printed-newspaper to combat the scurrilous perfidy of the The Daily Prophet and separate You-Know-Who from the Traditionalist faction. You likely desire to relocate the operation from its current robe-wetteningly-terrifying location to Hogwarts for easier usage. Since storing it within the castle itself would present an unacceptably high risk of discovery and confiscation, your most desired storage facility would be the similarly robe-wetteningly-terrifyingly haunted Shrieking Shack of Hogsmeade, to which there is also a convenient secret passage from school. A straightforward delivery contract with the Post via anonymous intermediaries would then be agreed, in order to prevent the Ministry from shutting down said haunted-by-ghosts-and-werewolves-Shrieking-Shack-housed-printing-press-printed-newspaper."

"That's absolutely right," Harry gaped.

"A childishly-simple feat of induction for a genius such as I, bwahahahaha! Now let us away – we still have half an hour left of free study time until Potions class to see our task done."

"How did you know there was a werewolf around the school?" asked Harry in worry for Remus' safety.

Pandora threw him a condescending look.

"Magic Eight Ball again?"

"Magic Eight Ball again."

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˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ ….

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Harry watched in amazement as a house elf in canary-yellow dungarees busily loaded the bulky printing presses onto what looked like a large flatcar or pump-trolley with a steam engine attached to the front. He, Pandora and Odd were being basted in a fine mist of dust, disturbed by all the movement. Once she had secured the equipment onto its transport, the elf hopped onto the steam engine and pulled a lever. With a loud bang, the engine started up, puffing large clouds of steam into the dark and spooky room. The machine shuddered and began to chug out of the room. Suddenly, to Harry's shock, there was an almighty screech and flash, and the entire contraption was gone.

Noting his slack-jawed expression, Odd explained, "It works on the same principle as the Knight Bus. Chirpy will have everything installed in the Shrieking Shack's basement before you can say ' _dulce et decorum est pro patria moray eel_ '!"

"Uh, right," Harry replied, coming back to his senses. "Now all we need to do is ward the basement with as many Notice-Me-Nots as we can, and find an editor."

"Good luck!" said Odd encouragingly.

"Odd …?"

"Yes, my dear Blubber?"

"Ever wanted to be an editor and journalist?"

"No, I always wanted to be a caterpillar."

"Well, would overthrowing the established social order of wizarding Britain be an acceptable runner-up?"

"Hmmmmm," the boy gave the matter deep thought. Pandora rolled her eyes and disapparated silently.

"Why don't you give it some thought and get back to me?" Harry suggested.

Odd nodded. Harry took hold of the boy's arm and side-along apparated them to the front of the Shrieking Shack. Together they strolled down to the cellars to supervise the set-up.

"You know," Odd mused as they watched Chirpy clean and prime the presses, and replace old and broken components, "I've always firmly believed that the press is a gang of cruel snozz-wazzles. Journalism is not a profession or a trade. It is a cheap catch-all for chawdards and misfits and charlatans, a false doorway to the backside of life, a filth-ridden little hole nailed off by the building inspector, but just deep enough for a vagrant to curl up from the sidewalk and expatiate like a Snorkack in a lime store."

"Ah," said Harry, heart sinking. "I see. Say no more …"

"So I'd be more than happy to take up the reins and run your treasonous newspaper. As the Great Scientist herself says, 'this will be ever so much fun'!"

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˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ …. ˂:3 )~~~~ ….

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"Blubber?" asked Xeno slowly the next day.

"What is it, Oddment?"

"Why _did_ the dinosaur cross the road?"

Harry grinned. "'Coz chickens weren't invented yet."

Xeno's nose scrunched. "I don't understand."

"You know, because of evolution?"

Blank stare.

"Darwin? Dinosaurs turning into birds?"

"You mean through transfiguration?"

"Bloody wizards," Harry grumbled.

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	14. 12 Bonding with Blacks

**Author's Note:**

This is a continuation/soft reboot of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse, with a bunch of changes. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" by Rorschach's Blot. Both are used with the permission of their original authors. The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter, Alice in Wonderland, Anchorman, Austin Powers, Avatar: the Last Airbender, Blackadder, The Barber of Seville, the Bible, Discworld, Dragonball Z, Evil Dead, How It Should Have Ended, Farscape, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Futurama, Game of Thrones, Inglourious Basterds, Great Expectations, Heart of Darkness, Indiana Jones, Inuyasha, Keeping Up Appearances, Lolita, The Lone Ranger, The Marriage of Figaro, Mazes and Monsters, Monkey Island, Monte Python, Naruto, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Pinky and the Brain, Pokémon, Popeye, Ranma ½, Red Dwarf, Robot Chicken, The Simpsons, Snakes on a Plane, South Park, Star Trek, Star Wars, Terminator 2, The Thousand and One Nights, Troll 2, Tomb Raider, Yes Prime Minister, White Chicks, and the works of Edgar Allen Poe, HP Lovecraft, Roald Dahl, Shakespeare, or anyone else.

Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.

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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "Weary Wizard" by Yunaine.

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 **Chapter 12 – Bonding with Blacks**

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All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.

– _Anna Karenina_

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"What did you say?"

"And what are you doing here?"

"How did you even get in here?"

Narcissa Black, the extra girl in the Gryffindor girls' dorm room, frowned. "I told you. I have to stay here so I can be safe. My new Head of House sold my sister in a bet and he'll be after me next, I just know it! But he can't come into the Gryffindor girls dorms because Potter called dibs on the Head Girl three years ago and told Pettigrew and the rest that it's no fair sneaking in and getting a look at his woman before he does. So can I sleep with you? I have money. My aunt said Gryffindor girls will let anyone sleep with them for two knuts."

"What! No!" one of the Gryffs shrieked. "We're not –"

"Quiet!" the redhead screamed. "What do you mean _,_ Potter called 'dibs' on me? Explain now!" _If it's not one thing it's another with that pest – I'm almost afraid of finding out what he's been up to now._

"Hey, what's all this noise?" One of the Prefects came in. She looked at Head Girl and at the cluster of agitated fourthies, counted the younger girls, frowned, then counted them again. "Aren't there supposed to be five of you? Which is the extra?"

The babble of fragmentary explanations was eventually resolved into a somewhat coherent, if not at all logical, explanation. The Head Girl sighed. "I'll take care of it," shooing the Prefect away. "I'm sure you misunderstood Pettigrew, Miss Black. Come on, I'll take you to your Head of House and let him sort you out. The rest of you, be more careful when you come in through the portrait. Now we have to change the password and everyone's inconvenienced. One point from each of you."

Lily dragged the protesting fourth-year to Professor Slughorn, who was not at all inclined to listen to Narcissa's fears. At least the detention was an hour of safety. Too soon she found herself in her own room, huddled under the blanket and clutching her wand, for what little good it would do her. The wards and passwords on the Slytherin common room and girls' dorms were utterly useless if someone could waltz in and abscond with 90 percent of the Slytherin student body in a single night without leaving a trace.

Now she had no dormmates to rely on (as much as one could rely on a Slytherin). Worse, her Head of House, the devious blackguard of Black, Peter Pettigrew, had beaten the entirety of Slytherin House in open combat, before demonstrating that the dorms' protections were no barrier to _him_ either – he'd kidnapped her, her sister and Snape, tied them to chairs in the common room like an old-time muggle villain and forced them to swear unbreakable oaths to become blood-traitors! If somebody as fearsome and dangerous as Bellatrix was no match for the vermin, what possible chance did poor Narcissa have? The girl swore she was going to spend every waking moment learning to protect herself from Lords and other dangers.

The next morning's Charms class was pointless in one sense – the summoning spell wouldn't keep her safe – but very useful in another. Professor Flitwick had promised to teach Narcissa more advanced spells if she excelled in her assigned classwork. The highly motivated young witch consequently was the first in the class to get the spell right, and was rewarded by being taught a charm to change hair colour. Her silken, black locks were the most beautiful in the family, everyone said so, but they made her too easy to spot in a crowd. Let's see how silver-blonde tresses would fare.

Transfiguration that afternoon was a waste of time. Changing a raven into a writing desk wouldn't keep The Rat away, and McGonagall wouldn't teach her any useful spells even if Narcissa promised to keep at the top of the class. It probably didn't help that she couldn't focus. How could she? The Slytherins and the Gryffindors were together for that class, and there was The Rat, smirking at her the whole time. He was pretending to practice the spell, but she thought his lips were saying "You're next" every time their eyes met.

In the common room that evening, Narcissa ignored all the rest of her homework in favour of mastering the Charms work for this week and the next three weeks. She had to be the best! Flitwick would help her protect herself from Pettigrew. All the other teachers and all the other classes were useless. Useless! Drawing a calming breath, the young, pretty, highly marketable, and justifiably worried witch then practiced the charm to change hair colour. On the very first try she got a handful on the side to turn blonde. Success! If she changed her hair colour a few times per day, Pettigrew would never catch her! Quickly Narcissa continued the rest of the way around her head. Her newly-blonde hair was a good enough disguise that the girl could slip through the corridors without being recognised.

Narcissa piled pillows underneath her blanket and then spent that night on top of her four-poster bed. She was small and slight and the rails were strong enough to hold her. It was uncomfortable, but better than the alternatives. She'd never again sleep in her own bed until that woman-selling monster was behind bars!

The next day was another Charms lesson. Professor Flitwick was impressed with both her classwork and her mastery of the hair spell. As a reward, she learned another hair spell, this one for lengthening and shortening, and mastered it by the end of class despite her fatigue. She'd certainly find a use for that! If she kept up her Charms excellence for a few more weeks, Narcissa would be safe from the monster forever!

There was only one thing to do: Narcissa had to devote every waking moment to disguising herself and hiding and keeping safe. She'd ask each of her Professors for help, and if they couldn't or wouldn't help her, she'd ignore their classes. Keeping herself safe was the only thing that was important.

Leaving lunch, she caught up with the Gryffindor girls that evening. She was still afraid of being caught while she slept, and the Gryff girls' dorm was still the best place for her. And besides, her thigh was bruised from sleeping on that wooden bar above her own bed last night. No, sweet-talking her way into the Gryff dorm was the way to go. Pettigrew wouldn't go there. She'd be safe.

"Ladies, I apologise for insulting you the other night," she lied. "One of my housemates explained the two knuts comment to me. Can I make it up to you with some fun hair styling?" The next few minutes' work left all six girls with different hair colour and length. It was, of course, mere coincidence that Narcissa's hair was now a match for what Lily had started with.

"The hair styling isn't only for fun, you know," Narcissa pointed out. "If you have, say, an evil Lord or some boy who's called dibs on you, being able to change your appearance can be very useful."

"Teach me those spells!" Lily demanded.

The girls spent the rest of the evening in the Library. Lily worked on her Herbology homework. Narcissa didn't bother. The difference between soil types was useless to her. She put the time instead into learning more charms. The prize was a size-blurring spell to make someone look larger or smaller. If The Evil Rat was looking for a small fourthie with long, black hair, he'd look right past a blonde who looked like a sixth-year. This might let her keep away from him long enough to learn more disguise spells.

But spells weren't enough. They'd never be enough by themselves. The fearful witch made her way to the Gryffindor common room by blending in with a group of older students getting in just before curfew. She then changed her apparent size and slipped into the fourth-year girls' dorm after the others were asleep. She slipped underneath one of the beds for extra security and planned to make up for the previous several nights' bad sleep. Bliss! Safe at last!

A piercing shriek woke up half the Tower the next morning. "Look! Look! You see!? He tried to get me but he missed and got Theresa! I'm next! I'm next! I have to get out of here!"

"For God's sake, calm down!" Abigail shouted as she shook the panicking Slytherin. "Theresa always gets up early and goes down to read. Get a hold of yourself!"

 _It didn't matter_ , Narcissa thought as she brought her panic under control. _None of this mattered._ Pettigrew was after her. He'd never give up until he'd managed to give her away. It didn't matter how well she disguised herself, he'd always find a way around it. Advanced Charms work wasn't going to save her. No, she had to look elsewhere. Potions. That was it. If she excelled in her Potions studies, she was sure Slughorn would teach her some advanced potions. Something subtle, something lethal. Just the thing to deal with vermin.

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The erstwhile Head of House Black's face was impassive as he stared at the wiry Deputy Headmistress who sat primly on the other side of the desk, waiting for her to break the silence. He was vaguely aware of the Headmaster droning on and on about something or other in the background, his usual sanctimonious platitudes no doubt; many words with no meaning. Orion had learned to tune him out many years ago, and instead focused his attention solely on the far more redoubtable Professor. Black had known Minerva McGonagall, then Weir, since shortly after setting foot on the Hogwarts Express for the first time. They'd disliked each other on sight and that dislike had only grown over the years. To his intense shock, a smile bloomed on the old battleaxe's face, completely ruining the normal flush of pride he felt every time he noted he slight crookedness of her nose and the memory that came with it.

"Orion." The harridan's smile grew wider. "I was wondering when we'd be graced with your presence." Even more worryingly, there wasn't so much as a hint of sarcasm in her tone. "Here to meet young Sirius and young Peter and organise alternative schooling arrangements, perhaps? You of course would have my full support."

A small portion of his mind noted the fact that Albus Dumbledore's expression made him look as if he'd just swallowed an insect. That too failed to bring Orion the normal thoughts of happiness that would come with it.

"I'm sure you'll want a bit of time alone with the dear boys," Minerva continued. "Please feel free to use my office for the meeting. Dippy!" A house elf appeared. "Please tell Lord Black and Mr. Black that their presence is required in my office."

"Yes, Perfessy Figuration," the creature squeaked.

"Albus, why don't I show our guest to my office for his meeting," Minerva stated. Orion felt as if his arm had been clamped in a steel vice. "Come along, Orion, I'm sure you remember the castle quite well but I would not dream of allowing even the chance that a guest as important as yourself getting lost and being late for such an important meeting with his Lord and his Heir."

"Yes, well ..." His mind frantically worked to think of a reason for the woman's behaviour as she dragged him through the castle. "I trust my son has been diligent in his studies." That seemed like a safe subject to bring up.

"Of course." The woman slowed down as she formulated her response. "In fact, if we were to take only practical grades into account, he and Peter are _magna cum laude_ every subject they're enrolled in. So much so that I can't help but wonder if Hogwarts is really the best place for them."

"What?"

"I hear that there are some very good practical courses in Outer Mongolia that might better help them to realise their potential. In fact, there are a number of schools in isolated locations far from here all around the globe that you may wish to consider transferring them to. I shall be sure to send you a list after I've had a chance to consult with my colleagues. I am quite sure that they will all _jump_ at the chance to see young Sirius and young Peter get the education they deserve somewhere else." They came to a halt in front of a large oaken door. "And here is my office. Please do not hesitate to help yourself to the contents of the top drawer."

"Yes ... thank you."

"Your charges should be here shortly," she said over her shoulder as she walked away. "I'll just see about getting you that list, shall I?"

It didn't take long for his Blacks to arrive. Needless to say, that meeting was another that did not go as he expected it to.

Orion glared down at the boys, a bit nonplussed by the fact that it seemed to have no effect on either. "Well," he barked, breaking five minutes of silence. "What do you have to say for yourselves?"

"About what, Mr Black?" Peter asked, apparently confused by the question. His half-wit progeny also looked confused.

"Do you want the list?" the man replied acerbically. To his irritation, the boy appeared to take his comment at face value, because Pettrigrew nodded happily.

"Good idea; let's start at the very beginning. It's a very good place to start."

Fine, if they wished to play this game, "Very well – from the top," he sneered. Depressingly, it seemed his presence and tone had as much effect on the boys as his glare. "Why don't we start with the little fact that the two most prominent members of the House in the next generation have chosen to shame it by allowing the Sorting Hat to place them in Gryffindor," he allowed his voice to drop to a hiss. He knew it was petty, especially after all this time, but the fact that Sirius was Sorted into Gryffindor six years ago still stuck in his craw. Even more so since his former and now-again Heir actually seemed proud of the fact.

"Shame?" Peter queried, the little bastard having the actual effrontery not to be embarrassed at being a pureblood Lord of an Ancient and Noble House who wasn't in Slytherin. "I fail to see the shame. In case you hadn't noticed, the once proud and noble Slytherin House has fallen from its once-lofty heights and become a stable of cowards and fools."

Orion was about to object and squash that insane statement like a gnat, but the upstart usurper continued on blithely. "What else would you call it when the entire population of the House, with few exceptions, decides to up and leave, in the middle of the night, in the middle of a school term no less? There are, to my mind, only two possible explanations for this shocking and singular event: (1) they left to join the Dark Lord's forces, and got lost along the way. We know they're not with the Dark Lord, else their parents would not be so desperate to find them. Really, their histrionics go well beyond whatever token public effort would be needed if they were now Death Eaters. And we know that they're still alive, from the self-updating Ministry records, Gringotts records, family tapestries, life crystals, family clocks, and other such magical items. We definitely would've heard about it if they'd shuffled off this mortal coil. Or, (2) they bravely took to their feet and beat a very brave retreat. Fleeing the war like a pack of utter cowards. So you see, unless they all eloped with each other, simultaneously," the brat mocked, "then they are either complete fools or complete poltroons."

Peter and Sirius shared an amused glance. Peter added, "Why would any well-bred individual in their right mind wish to associate with such as those? And before you say that this is merely a recent event, Slytherin House has been well-known as the House of lily-livered lackwits for more than a decade. A fact the slightest bit of research would reveal. So where's a true Slytherin to go, if they wish to remain undetected, and subtly use those around them for their own gain, without their patsies even realising, right under Dumbledore and McGonagall's noses?" He grinned evilly. "A Gryffindor could use a dark hex to eviscerate a student in the middle of the Great Hall at lunch time, and the Headmaster would still pat them on the head and exempt them from class for the rest of the day to 'assist them getting over the trauma from causing such accidental harm'!"

"Is that so?" Orion didn't believe a word of it. "And _your_ excuse?" he demanded of his wayward sprog.

Sirius repeated the word, looking confused. "Surely you knew? I was just following Mother's advice. Back then in first year."

"Your Mother advised you to seek placement in the Lions' House?" he asked in disbelief. This conversation was not going the way he'd expected it to. He'd expected to be facing a pair of either sullen or remorseful teens. Not ... not this.

"Yup," Sirius agreed proudly. "She said Slytherin was the best place to find a proper wife, that Ravenclaw would do if I could not find one in Slytherin, that Hufflepuffs were a bunch of unimportant plodders, and that Gryffindor was full of loose slags that would do anything to anyone for two knuts."

"You asked to be placed in Gryffindor because your mother said it was filled with scarlet women?" Orion repeated dumbly.

"Are you really that surprised?" interjected Peter sarcastically. "This is _Sirius_ we're talking about."

"I see." And he did see. He saw that he should have taken more of an interest in his children's upbringing. "Do I need to explain to you the importance of not relying on rumour to make decisions?"

"And yet _you_ relied on the rumours that Slytherin House was _not_ full of timorous cowards who couldn't conceive of a cunning plan if it painted itself purple and danced naked on harpsicord singing 'subtle plans are here again'," the snotty Pettigrew cur pointed out.

"She was also wrong about Hufflepuff," Sirius continued, as if Peter had not spoken.

"In what way?"

"The girl with the biggest bosom at Hogwarts is always in Hufflepuff," Sirius replied. "I was gonna ask the Hat to put me there until I found out that the one in my first year was also Head Girl so she had her own suite."

One spot of bad luck averted. As bad as the shame of a disinherited firstborn son who'd been Sorted into Gryffindor was, a Hufflepuff would have been infinitely worse. Even one that hadn't been blown off the family tapestry. Moving on hastily, he accused, "You also restored to the family the childish oaf sitting beside you, as the Heir no less, and my traitorous muggle-loving niece."

"Of course I did," Peter replied glibly. "The Black family is not so large that we can afford to throw away members willy-nilly."

"And," he growled, "I'm given to understand that you've made Andromeda the proxy to the Black seat on the Wizengamot?"

"And you wish to know why? Simple: motivation. She is the one person who will work the hardest and longest to benefit the family in the halls of power. She is both bright, and owes her status as a Black to me. Consequently, she knows that only by working for the benefit of the family to the very extent of her abilities and strength, will she remain a Black. In addition, her immediate family's financial wellbeing is now entirely dependent on her pay as my proxy."

"Oh yes, a child so bright she decided to waste her affections on a useless muggleborn!" His voice dripped with disdain and contempt.

"Properly cultivating a muggleborn slave so they can more effectively carry out their duties is hardly a useless endeavour," Peter sniffed. "As you very well know, the Tonks family sold him to Andromeda as a slave for the purposes of breeding stock and for his skills as a Healer. Much cheaper having one on staff than paying good gold to go to St Mungos all the time. That darn hospital overcharges like crazy anyhow. As an added bonus, as a muggleborn, the bribes to the Ministry won't be too high if she grows tired of him or if he annoys her too much, and she decides to dispose of him."

"And these are the grounds on which you readmitted her back into the family?"

"These are the grounds. And also on the grounds that she work for the family, as my proxy."

Orion shook his head, deciding to table the matter for the time being, and get through the rest of the issues on his mental list. "Bellatrix's letters have become even more incoherent than usual," he said at last. "I could only gather from them that you have done something to her. Would you two care to elaborate?"

Peter shrugged. "I lost her."

"Exactly how can you lose a family member?"

"Well, I suppose Bellatrix wasn't so much lost as traded away," Sirius said helpfully. "And you always said a man honours his debts, Father."

"Lost her in a game of exploding snap with one of the Slytherins," Peter sighed. "I had the second best possible hand, too."

"And who had the best?"

"Severus Snape!" Sirius barked gleefully.

"That is not a pureblood name."

"Halfblood from the Prince family, but he knows more about dark magic than the DADA Professor, so Bellatrix was happy. Once she worked the shock out of her system." Peter grinned. In spite of the fallout of the Battle of Hogwarts, it was still the best bet he'd ever made. "He's also really good at Potions. The Professor says he had the potential to be a master some day."

"Oh?" Orion perked up a bit. Better than it could have been, he supposed.

"And when that happens, I'll contact him and offer to take Bellatrix back for the low low price of everything he owns and 50 percent of his lifetime earnings," Peter said happily. "Bellatrix's such a crazy bitch that Snivellus's already offered to give me everything he owns. I told him that he didn't have anything I wanted yet and that he needed to work hard to earn enough to make it worth my while."

"Watch your tongue! Don't say such things about members of the Black family!"

"Of course she's a crazy bitch," Sirius said in a matter-of-fact tone. "She was the one who single-handed kickstarted the entire Battle of Hogwarts."

"I presume you wanted to speak to us about that too?" Peter asked. "The long and short of that whole miserable affair is that Bellatrix's little BF laid waste to the Great Hall and put half the school in the Infirmary and then on punishment detail. On the upside, Sirius and I and a few of our lackeys, retainers and hangers-on were able to handily defeat the entire 'might' of Slytherin House on the field of battle," Peter continued. "Proving yet again what a hopeless bunch of feckless duffers infest the House of Snakes these days."

"BF?"

"Bitch-Fit."

"Some say that it was the shame at being defeated by such a small group of Gryffindors, and/or the difficulty of their punishment of manual labour – cleaning floors no doubt hurt their poor pampered hands and ruined their manicures – that inspired Slytherin House to bravely flee the castle," Sirius added in glee.

"We're not entirely sure whether the current generation's crop of Slytherins is more or less pathetic than the _annus horribilis_ of 1792. You know, the time a cockatrice got loose from the Triwizard Tournament and massacred the majority of Slytherin House, who were sitting in the audience. Over 200 Slytherins couldn't deal with a single magical creature, and ended up dead as a result. I hear the Slytherin numbers didn't get back up to 1791 levels until the 1870's," Peter lectured.

Sirius mused, "The others say less; I disagree but I've agreed to table the dispute until after we have a chance to argue the issue before the Wizengamot and get an official ruling."

Orion pinched the bridge of his nose. Perhaps the muggleborn notions on the dangers of inbreeding were not quite as misguided as he had thought them to be. It was a matter he was going to have to give careful consideration. The man made a mental note to spend more time with Regulus to be sure at least _one_ of the next generation of Blacks was being brought up right. The best way to prove the muggleborn wrong was to show them that nurture was far more important that nature. And speaking of muggleborn …

"I noticed something unusual on the family tapestry the other day," he noted, with chilling softness.

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Do tell, Mr Black."

"Somebody has clearly jinxed it, else the artefact has become too old and the magic bound to it is starting to fade," Orion continued silkily. "It is clearly a mistake, otherwise one might think that the current Lord Black, no matter how much an interloper, usurper and parvenu, had actually _married a muggleborn_?" He could feel his rage rising again, overpowering his befuddlement.

"I sure did," the arrogant snot admitted proudly.

"Even declared his intentions right there in the Headmaster's Office in front of Dumbles, McGonagall, and the Potter family," Sirius crowed. "You should've seen the looks on Charlus and Fleamont's faces when he declared he'd snatched the Potter Heir's intended bride right out from under their noses!"

That gave Orion pause. There was nothing he liked better than rubbing salt in the wounds (and anywhere else) of those arrogant blood-traitors. At least there was a (albeit microscopic) silver lining to this whole fiasco. Struggling to retain his temper, he gritted, "And what, pray tell, possessed you to degrade the name and bloodline of the House of Black in such a humiliating manner? If you wished to destroy the House, there are quicker and less painful ways of going about it. Like crucifying every member on the Hogwarts Express' railway tracks."

"How else am I supposed to convince the muggleborn that I'm on their side?"

"You're on their side?" he demanded, flabbergasted. "Why?!"

"So far as they know, yes. And so they'll follow me of course," Pettigrew said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Noting the look of disbelief-cum-rage-cum-confusion-cum-despair-cum-more rage on the older man's face, he elaborated. "Tell me, Mr Black, are you familiar with the history of Marcus Livius Drusus ?

"A muggle no doubt?" he sneered.

"As far as I know, though he lived around two and a half millennia ago, so it was well before the Statute of Secrecy," Peter replied sardonically. "So you really have no excuse not to know about it. In brief: Marcus Livius Drusus was a member of the Roman Senate, who realised that there was an entire country full of disenfranchised Italians just chomping at the pit to be made equals to the toffs. Or, failing that, to kill all the toffs and take their belongings and social status. The rich and powerful aristocrats who controlled the Roman Senate were digging in their heels and refusing to allow these Italians any part in the government or the major institutions of society, even though they paid taxes, fought in the military, and traded with the elites, ironically ensuring the continued economic dominance of the very elites they resented."

"Most appropriate behaviour of the Senators. The uneducated rabble should never be given a taste of power, it whets their appetite, and they will continue to consume until there is nothing left."

"Be that as it may, this particular elite personage realised that this impasse had created an entire generation of excluded people, whose combined wealth, know-how and manpower significantly outmatched that of the Roman senatorial class. And anyone who could enfranchise them, or at least partially enfranchise them, would obtain their eternal loyalty and unwavering political, economic and military support. An _entire country_ full of clients. Why, he'd be the most powerful Roman politician who'd ever lived."

Orion's eyes widened slightly. It was the only movement on his stone-still face.

"I see you understand," Peter nodded. "I will make it my mission to turn every single muggleborn in Britain, and hopefully a good chunk of the halfbloods, into my clients. I shall be the most powerful Lord Black who ever existed!" His eyes flashed, and it looked as if he were restraining a bout of maniacal laughter.

Even Sirius was staring at his friend by this point. Shakily, the patriarch got to his feet, and began to make his way out of the room.

"Oh and Mr Black," Peter called before the man could exit. He turned. "Don't forget to cancel that hit the family has put out on me, will you? I don't know what you paid those poor excuses for hitwizards in exchange, given that I've ensured you don't have the gold available for it, but consider it their severance pay. And don't forget to tell Cygnus to get Bellatrix to cease her pathetic attempts at trying to assassinate me. I don't really care if she was instructed to do so by you or Cygnus or somebody else, or if she just decided to take the initiative, but it is becoming tiresome by now. Aconite in the pumpkin juice, really? Have the Blacks been reduced to Amateur Hour now?" He shook his head in mock disappointment. "I was willing to give her some leeway, based on our _understanding_ , Mr Black, but as you would know better than anyone, allowing persons to try to assassinate a Lord of House Black is not something any Lord Black can tolerate. Sets a bad example for the rest of the population, doesn't it? It could even inspire some fools of low intelligence to think they might have actually had a chance of succeeding, not knowing of the allowances one must make for family members. Wouldn't you agree? I would so hate to have to reduce the family to just myself, Andromeda and Sirius – not after all the trouble I've gone to to boost our numbers."

There was a long silence. Peter and Orion stared long into each other's eyes, waiting for the other to blink or show the slightest sign of weakness.

"Can we get a move on?" Sirius drawled in irritation. "I would like to get some sleep sometime tonight."

"Perhaps that would be for the best," Orion conceded. He hesitated. "I shall make the arrangements. Good evening." Peter inclined his head slightly, and Orion Black left.

Making his way back to the nearest Floo, his sole satisfaction was the thought of what Minerva's face would look like once he informed her that the two miscreants were perfectly happy where they were and under no circumstances would they leave Hogwarts (or her House) until they graduated. The very thought of what traumas they would likely inflict on the tiresome old bat in the next two years lightened his step and his heart enough to drag himself back to Grimmauld Place. He was both physically and mentally drained by the time he got home. The day had not gone remotely how he'd imagined it would when he'd set out that morning. He'd thought he was going to discipline the wayward youths. Wayward youths being an understatement: his miserable wretch of a blood-traitor eldest son, and his mysterious House-stealing crony seemed to have plotted to make it their mission in life to cause so much chaos that even a Lovegood would be impressed at the havoc they wrought. Orion had ended up learning far too much about the thief, far too much about his son, far too much about his middle niece, and that his eldest niece was indeed a crazy bitch. To make matters worse, based on her brief missive that she'd managed to slip into his pocket somehow on his way out of the castle, his youngest niece Narcissa had developed a phobia of being traded off or lost in a bad bet like Bellatrix and thus refused to go anywhere without being accompanied by a bodyguard of several Gryffindor girls. He attributed this reversal in the family fortune to several things: his inattentiveness, the fact that his wife was insane, and possibly to the fact that the family tree had been a bit too straight over the past couple of generations. What else could possibly explain why the family magics decided to jump the rails completely and transfer Lordship to a completely unrelated, no-talent nutter with a muggle-messiah-complex?

"Did you sort them out?!" Walburga demanded shrilly, the moment she noticed his presence.

 _It was a fine greeting_ , he thought to himself, _and yet another piece of evidence for the case that the whole situation was all her fault._

"I did not."

The woman drew her wand and turned to the family tapestry.

"I did learn however, that the situation is partly due to your influence over Sirius," he said quickly, trying to remember if the tapestry was on a load-bearing wall.

"Why do you say that?" On the good side, her wand was no longer pointed at what, on reflection, he was sure _was_ a load-bearing wall. On the minus, it was now pointed at the space between his eyes.

"Do you remember telling him that Gryffindor was full of loose women that would do anything to anyone for two knuts?"

"What of it?"

"Sirius apparently decided that he liked the idea of spending seven years surrounded by loose women," Orion explained. The wand was no longer pointed between his eyes.

"As expected of my son," the woman sighed. "I really should have seen that coming. And what of the black-hearted knave who stole your title and magics?"

"He lost Bellatrix to another student in a game of exploding snap."

"And Narcissa?"

"Has taken refuge in the Gryffindor girls wing to avoid a similar fate."

"Tell me about this boy who will soon be entering the family."

"He is a halfblood Prince who has the potential to become a potions master."

"Barely acceptable," she sniffed. "What else?"

"The Pettigrew cur claims to be the one who arranged for the enslavement of that worthless muggleborn Andromeda ran off with. Since he's a muggleborn it seemed the best and most legal response, and as an added bonus, the bribes to the Ministry won't be too high if she decides to dispose of him," he repeated dully.

"And he was quite right about that, I checked the rates" his wife said thoughtfully. "Such a considerate new Lord to take the family's financial situation into account. I assume that his shameful marriage to some muggleborn slattern is for a similar reason?"

"Not quite. Pettigrew apparently stole the bride-to-be of the Potter Heir as a slight to House Potter. He also claims to be of the belief that by marrying a muggleborn and maintaining friendly relations with them, he can convince them he will fight to expand their rights and power. Thus leveraging their hopes into enormous personal political power. Following the example of some ancient muggle."

Walburga looked intrigued. "This requires careful consideration," she murmured.

 _Genetic then_ , he thought with a mental sigh. He'd just have to hope the infusion of new blood from two halfbloods and two muggleborn would help dilute the madness. Andromeda and Bellatrix seemed to be on track so he just had to ensure that his sons found love outside the family tree and that, provided she was able to cure her new batch of phobias, Narcissa did the same.

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"You don't really believe in all that nundu-shite you were spoon-feeding him in there, do you?" Sirius demanded, as they made their way back to Gryffindor Tower.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course not, Padfoot; I just made up the worst, evilest, most foul reasons I could think of for what I've done and said them. So naturally, he bought it hook, line and sinker!" More like he'd channelled Nagini as best he could, and said everything that Tom Riddle would likely have said were he in a similar situation. Most of his words were pure Dark-Lord-esque oleaginous schmoozing. "And what about you? You were brilliant! All that shite about following your mother's advice! I wish I could see the look on Walburga's face when she hears about that! Did she really say all that stuff?"

"It was nothing," Sirius said modestly. "And only every other day until I got onto the Hogwarts Express for the first time."

They laughed.

"So tell me," Sirius said presently, "how did you know they'd put out a hit on you?"

"I didn't," Harry replied honestly. "But this _is_ the Black Family we're talking about. I just asked myself, what would Bellatrix do in this situation? The answer's obvious: either kill the usurper herself or get someone else to do it. Orion, Walburga and Bella all had their shot at the hands-on approach and failed. It's only logical that the family would put a price on my head."

"Hmmm, I hate to say I agree with you, but that does sound like Black behaviour. You think they'll cancel the contract?"

"If they don't want the House of the pure to become the sole domain of halfbloods, muggleborn and blood-traitors," Harry replied grimly.

"I see," Padfoot grinned. "Merlin, you can be scary too when you want to be; a sort of nibbling, gnawing scary, but even so, are you sure you don't have any Black in you?"

They reached Gryffindor Tower and stepped into the deserted common room.

"And the story you told about that Roman bloke – was it true?"

"Sure was."

"And he tried to give rights to all the common folk?"

"Yep."

"What happened? Did he succeed and become Emperor or something?"

"He got shivved to death in his own home."

"Ah."

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Eileen Snape née Prince allowed her seldom used wand to fall into her hand. An hour. That's how long she'd been away from her house. An hour in which the few magical defences she'd dared to put up had somehow disappeared. The woman's breath caught when she noticed the state of the front door. Investigate things or run? That was the question. It was the thought of her son that settled things for her, someone after her might go after him if she made herself too hard to find. Better to end things now even if that ending was not in her favour. Severus would survive and she had not doubt the boy would be strong enough to move on. She took a deep breath and approached the door.

As Eileen got closer, her ears caught the unmistakable sound of someone attempting to scream through a gag. Still there then. She took another deep breath to calm her nerves. She held no illusions at what was likely to happen, it had been too long since she'd last used magic in an offensive manner, too long since she'd used any magic at all save for a few clandestinely cast household charms.

"I've lived the last few years as a muggle, but at least I can die a witch," she whispered to herself. With a brighter smile than had adorned her face in ages, she stepped into the house to meet her fate.

"Eileen," the last person she wanted to see greeted her with a smile. Walburga Black was standing by her kitchen table which groaned under the weight of the bound form of Tobias Snape. There wasn't a mark on the man, not that that meant much, the only reason to leave them when using magic was for the show. "I hope you don't mind, but I tortured your pet muggle a bit to pass the time."

"To what do I owe the unexpected pleasure of your company?" she tried to keep her tone neutral.

"Do you remember my niece, Bellatrix?" Walburga asked.

"Vaguely. I believe she was born shortly before I was cast out of the family for sullying myself with a muggle," the former Prince replied.

"Our current Lord Black, working in collaboration with the Heir Sirius, set her and your son up," Walburga stated with a smile. "My husband tells me they're adorable together."

"What?" she asked dully. No threats? No curses? Not even a mild hex? Just ... just ... what?

"Bella is quite interested in dark magic, and apparently your boy is the best in school."

"I ... you're not angry about the match?"

"Why would I be, after nearly every other pureblood boy remaining in Hogwarts sent a letter to the family stating how your Severus was such a good match that they would do all in their power to keep them together. And Bella herself sent glowing letter about how he knew enough of the Dark Arts to survive the most advanced brain freezing curse she knew!"

"I see."

"It's why I came down here, to welcome you into the Black family and back into polite society."

"Thank you, Walburga."

"I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of telling your father the good news that the Black family would declare a blood feud and murder him if he didn't reinstate you as Heir to the family."

"I'll bet he was overjoyed to hear that," Eileen said dryly.

"So much that he insisted on going directly to Gringotts to make sure you had vault access restored, after I showed him how easily the family could get to him and how ineffective his wards are," Walburga said cheerfully.

The most gnarled and sour-faced house elf Eileen had ever had the misfortune to encounter popped into the room at that point in the conversation.

"Bad Prince has done as Mistress requires," the house elf reported.

"Give him the antidote and remind him that he will need another in 30 days if he does not wish to die screaming."

"Yes, mistress," the elf intoned. Its attention shifted to the bound form of her husband. "Bad muggle dares sully mistress with his filthy muggle eyes!" It spat and the spittle flew unerringly into her husband's left eye. "Bad muggle should –"

"Now, Kreacher!" Walburga growled.

"Yes, Mistress." The elf spat in her husband's other eye before disappearing with a pop.

"Now dear, I was hoping you'd be free to come to dinner tonight?" Walburga asked hopefully.

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Severus shuddered at the look on his so-called slave and self-proclaimed girlfriend's face as she regarded the unfortunate seventh-year that was the target of her ire. He wondered if this is how Siegfried ever felt being the lover of a Valkyrie. A Valkyrie who could turn into a Berserker in the flick of a stage-light. Jo ho to.

"You dare to fire a tripping hex at my Sevvie-buggins when he's coming down the steps to meet me!?" Her eyes were lit with the fires of insanity. "Tell me one reason I shouldn't break every bone in your body and feed your testicles to a rat." Her smile deepened. "Without first detaching them."

"I think he'd have an easier time responding if you hadn't shattered his lower jaw," Severus said as dryly as he could.

It could have been worse, he supposed, the older years' remaining purebloods could have turned on him for the 'crime' of sullying a pureblood maiden. As it was (he winced at the sound of Corner screaming through what little remained of his jaw) that had not happened. The older years had been nothing but supportive of his relationship with the eldest Black sister, with the exception of Corner here. One of them had even gone so far as to promise that he would do everything possible to ensure that nothing occurred that could possibly make her single again. (He had to avert his eyes at Bellatrix's response to the younger Corner brother's attempt to object to the treatment of his brother.) He'd been confused by that until after he'd gotten a chance to get to know the girl. They'd made perfect sense after that.

It had certainly hurt when Lily stopped them in the hallway to offer her congratulations and to repeatedly state that she saw him as nothing more than a friend, but he understood, he'd already spent some time in close proximity to the Slytherin seventh-year girl by that point, and Lily's reaction made perfect sense by then.

"I'm so sorry, Sevvie-bear, I didn't leave anything left for you," she threw her arms around him and gave him a wet sloppy kiss."

"Seeing you happily occupied with them made me happy," he stated truthfully. They'd given him a few precious moments in which he was not the sole focus of her attentions.

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It took Minerva McGonagall half the morning to find the Headmaster and when she did she was a bit mystified by the fact that he was not in his office, choosing instead to do his paperwork upside down from the vaulted ceiling of the Divination Tower. The scents of fuchsia and sandalwood were overpowering.

"Is there some reason you've chosen to work here today, Albus?" she asked, craning her neck cautiously to look up at him. It was never wise to ask Dumbledore too many questions, every answer held the potential to make you regret the fact that you'd asked it.

"It is sometimes nice to get out of my stuffy office to do one's work somewhere with better ventilation," the Headmaster replied cheerfully. "Fortunately for me, the Divination Professor and his assistants had to make an emergency visit to Cornwall due to unforeseen circumstances, leaving this space unoccupied. But I sense that you did not come here to ask me that."

"Yes. The fourth year Slytherin has been spending quite a bit of time with my Gryffindors," Minerva reported.

"Oh? How much time?"

"All of it. She attends classes with them, sleeps with them, eats with them, and refuses to go back to her own dormitories."

"Is she being bullied in her House?" the old man asked.

"I do not believe so." It would take a very foolish individual to even look at the girl wrong considering her family's habit of extreme solutions to minor problems.

"Is she from a traditionally Light family?" His mind tried to identify any of the students that may have 'shamed' their family by being sorted into the wrong house. He could only think of one and he was already in Gryffindor.

"Quite the opposite," McGonagall replied. "I would expect young Miss Black to want nothing to do with the House of the Lions."

"I see." The old man stared down at his Deputy for a few moments. "I fail to see the problem here, Minerva. Simply explain to young Miss Black that while having friends in other Houses is a wonderful thing, something I strongly encourage, that she must at minimum sleep and attend classes with her housemates."

"I have tried, Albus. The issue is that I am not sure _which_ of my girls is Miss Black." She pursed her lips. "The girl has become quite proficient with glamours."

"Proficient enough to fool you!?" She now had Dumbledore's full attention.

"With the help of my Gryffindors. Yes." It was also possible the girl was a metamorphmagus, it was said the talent cropped up in the Black family from time to time.

"Remarkable." The Chief Warlock grinned in an unhinged manner. "Please inform Miss Black that I am awarding 30 points to Slytherin for impressive spell work and 30 more to your Gryffindors for showing inter-House unity."

Minerva pinched the bridge of her nose. "How does this solve my problem, Albus?"

"Problem?" The old man stroked his beard out of his eyes. "I'm afraid I don't know what problem you are referring to, Minerva."

"Never mind, Albus," the Deputy Headmistress sighed. The easy way it was then. She'd look the other way and pretend she'd always had a set of identical twins in the current batch of Gryffindor fourth-year girls. Perhaps Miss Black would even consent to pick one girl to emulate rather than rotating through the bunch.

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"Peter, will you _pleas_ e tell my cousin that you've no intention of selling her off like cattle to the lowest bidder?!" Sirius demanded. "She's been learning appearance-altering charms and potions at all hours of the day and night, shacking up in different girls' beds, and while normally that would be hot and I'd be all in favour, she also keeps freaking out and carrying on about how an evil rodent's trying to get her! The girls' dorms are in an uproar. It's been driving the entire Tower nuts over the past few weeks."

"Is that what all the commotion's been about?" Harry asked. "I hadn't really paid much attention to it."

Sirius stared incredulously. "You oblivious idiot! How in the name of Morgana's mangy molars do you not notice all the hullabaloo that goes on nearly every night?"

"I've been preoccupied with other things," Harry shrugged. "Besides, I've had permanent silencing charms on my bed since the first night of term. You do know you snore like an electric chainsaw, right?"

"Chainsaws aside, can you please do something about her? Reassure her somehow?" Sirius half-pleaded, half-threatened. "We Blacks aren't the sanest at the best of times, and she's right on the cusp of going over the edge. Or at least, driving _me_ over the edge."

"What did you have in mind?"

"I don't know! You're Lord Black, you think of something!"

"I don't know Narcissa, so I've no idea what would reassure her. Even if I did think of something," Harry said in a measured tone, "how am I supposed to find her in order to deliver said reassurance? You say she's been learning all sorts of disguise spells and avoiding me like, ahem, the Plague."

"Just do something! Anything!" Sirius snarled in frustration.

"Anything eh?" Harry asked slowly.

"Yes!"

"Okay Sirius, I want you to tell me exactly what she's afraid of and why. In as much detail as you can …"

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Andromeda Tonks had decided to take a break and was just about to start making lunch when she was disturbed by a knock on the door. On the other side was a woman she'd never expected to see again in her life, not after the words exchanged at their last meeting four years ago.

"Andromeda," the old woman said calmly. "Are you going to invite me in?"

"Aunty?" Andromeda said in shock. "What are you doing here?"

"I see marrying down has made you forget your manners," Walburga Black observed. "Pity."

"What are you doing here?" Andromeda groped for her wand.

"I came to speak with you about your future with the family. If you are rude enough to keep me at the door, then I suppose I have no choice but to have that conversation here."

"I thought you made it clear last time we spoke that I _had_ no future with the family," Andromeda retorted bitterly.

"That was until your reinstatement as a Black and appointment as the Black proxy in the Wizengamot," her aunt replied bluntly. "It appears I may have been wrong, and you _do_ have some glimmers of pride and ambition after all."

"The new Lord Black made it a condition of my reinstatement to do his dirty work in the snake-pit of government," Andromeda replied dryly. "So you've come because you want something from me, then? Well, out with it."

"Who's at the door, Mummy?" a child's voice asked.

"Go back to your room," Andromeda ordered.

"What do we have here?" Walburga muttered as she stooped down to examine the child.

"My name is Nymphadora," the three-year old girl announced proudly.

"A wonderful name. I ..." she watched in shock as the child's hair shifted through several colours before settling on pink. "I see," Walburga said with a satisfied smile. _A metamorphmagus of all things! It seems that young Andromeda's impulsiveness has been a boon to the family after all._

"What do you see?!" Andromeda demanded.

"I see that you and your muggleborn slave have produced a daughter with a powerful and rare gift," the old woman replied. "We are going to have a family dinner in two weeks' time, bring young Nymphadora."

"Is my slave – I mean _husband_ , invited as well?" Andromeda asked cautiously.

"Of course," the old woman replied. "It's long past time for your property to meet the family of his Mistress."

"So long as Sirius comes," Andromeda agreed. She felt faint; either she'd taken a bad batch of potions or the day was shaping up to be the weirdest one she'd ever had.

"He and the current 'Lord' will both be there. They cannot, unfortunately, be excluded from such things."

"Indeed not, that would be most improper," came a new voice. "Well, don't just stand there gabbing at the front door all day," said Dorea Potter-Black, hands on hips. "We have important business to discuss. Young Andromeda and I have been coordinating our Houses' positions on the upcoming Bills for next session. You should join us, Walburga. The males have certainly left us a niffler's breakfast for the past few generations, it will take some time to sort everything out satisfactorily. At least our current Heads have seen fit to entrust the rectification of their Houses to those best suited to the task!"

So saying, she bustled her relatives into the sitting room.

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The great whoop of joy could be heard across the entire Great Hall, and probably across the entire ground floor. The students and faculty of Hogwarts paused in their breakfast and their morning owl mail as a tall, redheaded girl covered in freckles sprang to her feet and leaped over the Gryffindor table in one bound in order to hurl herself into Sirius Black.

"Wah, bluh?" he sputtered articulately, as the girl climbed into his lap and smothered his face with feather-light kisses. He was still half-asleep and had nowhere near the active brainpower to handle anything more than pants-first-then-shoes and open-mouth-then-insert-food until at least noon.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!"

"Congratulations, Mr Black, I see you've made another conquest," said Professor McGonagall dryly. "However, I must ask the two of you to refrain from such overt displays of affection in public. That's 25 points from Gryffindor."

The girl ignored the teacher, preferring instead to burrow into him as closely as she could.

"But Professor, I've no idea who she is! Or what's going on!"

"I'm sure," she said blandly as she strode away.

"I know my sexual magnetism is off the charts," he muttered to the Marauders, "but this is a first."

Sirius was discombobulated, but slowly began to piece things together. Like the way the unknown girl kept calling him 'Siri' or 'cousin'. Another clue was the official-y looking parchment clutched in her hands, something she must have just received from a Post owl. But the thing that clinched it was when the girl stood up and gave a formal curtsey to Wormtail and thanked him as 'Lord Black'. Then gave Sirius his own copy of the documents before trotting away happily.

Peter sat there with that stupid grin plastered all over his chubby face.

"What have you done to her?" he demanded.

"Who's 'her'?" asked Peter innocently.

"Don't play dumb – Narcissa," through clenched teeth.

"Narcissa? As in, your cousin Narcissa Black? I see no Narcissa anywhere." Butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

"What's this?" He waved the parchment around.

"You can read – or at least, that's what Prongs keeps insisting."

"Leave me out of this," said James, but he and Remus were watching with avid interest.

Slowly Sirius focused his sleep-addled brain on what looked like … no. No no no no. He looked up at his nemesis, stung to the quick by such a deep betrayal. "What have you done?" he whispered in horror.

"Took a page out of Pandora's book," Wormtail replied smarmily. "Oh don't look at me like that, Padfoot, you said to reassure her!"

"Not like this!"

"You also said you'd do anything," Wormtail pointed out in that infuriatingly smug way of his.

"I didn't mean –"

"If you didn't mean something, you should have said so," Peter interrupted. Wiping his mouth delicately with his napkin, he rose and strolled out of the Great Hall, not a care in the world. Sirius glared at the doorway, as if he could drag the boy back just by staring hard enough.

"Uh, Padfoot?" Remus ventured. "Mind sharing?"

Sirius absently tossed the papers in Remus' general direction before also leaving.

"What is it, Moony?"

"Well, this here is a letter from Lord Black to Narcissa Black explaining that Sirius has prevailed upon him to be merciful to her. Consequently, he has taken steps to ensure that nobody, not even he, can sell, bargain, bet, barter, trade her or use her as collateral."

"Thank Merlin, maybe we'll finally get some peace and quiet in the Tower at last. How'd he manage that?"

He picked up the official legal document. "Through this betrothal agreement between Narcissa Black … and Sirius Black."

James dropped his fork in shock. "But … but, they're cousins!"

Remus shrugged. "And purebloods," he said simply.

"I'm pretty sure Sirius never consented to this!"

"Doesn't matter; both parties are underage, so their guardian, Lord Black, signed on their behalf. Even though Wormy's 16 like Sirius, being a Lord makes him an emancipated minor. Hmmmm clever. Marriage can only occur after both parties have reached their majority. Either party can withdraw voluntarily from the contract after they reach their majority. Only have to pay a nominal penalty. As long as this is in force, I don't think Narcissa has to worry about being sold or given away, since she's already under a pre-existing agreement. And once she's 17 and older, you can't sell people involuntarily." Remus put down the sheets and returned to his morning plate of turkey and goblet of turkey-juice.

James shook his head despondently. It seemed like everyone having an underage marriage except him. Always a bridesmaid, never a bride. He glanced at a certain redhead and sighed.

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"Thank you, Sirius."

"What?"

"Thank you for saving me from ... well, you know what." Narcissa said.

"Of course," Sirius assured the nervous girl, "You know I'd do anything for my cutest cousin." He suddenly found his arms filled with sobbing girl and he was left wondering how things had reached this point. It was awfully weird for Sirius, seeing as how he was used to her being a foot shorter than him and black-haired, instead of a foot taller than him and ginger.

It was how Lily found them 15 minutes later. In the middle of the Gryffindor common room. "So it all worked out then?" she asked with a grin.

The girl reluctantly released her saviour and forced herself to adopt a demeanour more befitting a daughter of the House Black.

"You'll let me know if you want to marry someone else, right? If you like some boy and want to be with him, I'll support you." Sirius said to his cousin. She looked conflicted. "Are you alright, Cissy? I was just asking what you wanted?"

"What?"

"I asked you what you wanted," Sirius repeated.

"I ..." Narcissa looked lost. "I don't know."

"Tell me when you figure it out then," Sirius said reasonably. "Was there anything else you wished to discuss?"

"Not at this time," Narcissa replied.

"In that case," Sirius stated firmly, "I need to go have some words with a certain rat."

Narcissa stared after him dreamily as he stormed away. "What a guy."

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Lily had an unreadable look on her face as her guest settled down on the spare bed she'd had the elves bring up. She was not usually on speaking terms with the Slytherin (heck, half the time she couldn't even tell which of the Gryffindor girls was really her in disguise) and if it weren't for the fact that Sirius had requested it (i.e., gotten down on his knees before her in the Great Hall and shamelessly begged until she felt she'd die of embarrassment), she'd have never allowed her access to the Head Girl's suite of rooms.

"Thank you for letting me stay with you," Narcissa said shyly. Sirius had told her to be polite and thank her host. "It was kind of you. I … I just … can't stay in the Slytherin dorms anymore. Not when they're this empty. And cold. And dark." She shivered. "I've gotten used to being with the Gryffindor girls," she admitted. "They're not so bad."

"That's all right," Lily said uncomfortably. "You're not alone in that regard. Every remaining Slytherin except your sister, cousin and Severus has transferred to stay in Ravenclaw Tower. I wouldn't want to be left alone there either. And Sirius _did_ ask nicely."

"He's great, isn't he?" Narcissa agreed happily. "Right now he's making extra-triple sure that my evil Head of House can't get me."

"Is that so?" Lily asked in an uninterested tone.

"It is. Sirius said that he had things he wanted to discuss with Pettigrew, and then rushed away." Narcissa continued. "I hope he doesn't get hurt," she added with a sigh.

"He'll be fine. You know how boys are, they fight all the time; Sirius and Peter have been having scraps with each other since they were 11. Sirius will only get hurt if he isn't careful," Lily assured the girl confidently. "And then you can patch him up, good as new."

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Lily sighed as Narcissa held up yet another robe for inspection.

"Do you think Sirius would like me in these?" Narcissa asked, holding up a pair of midnight black robes.

"I'm sure he would," Lily agreed half-heartedly.

"Lily, do you think I should keep my hair long, or would Sirius like it short?" Narcissa asked.

"Sirius likes long hair," Lily replied. She'd flipped a coin surreptitiously.

"What about my skin?" Narcissa asked. "Should I tan it?"

"I should keep it the way it is if I were you," Lily said calmly. All the while trying to decide whether or not to broach the subject that continued to nag at her and just wouldn't go away. She sighed to herself. Someone had to give the girl The Talk regarding Sirius, and it seemed Fate had once again singled her out for an unwanted job. "Sirius is a stupid, immature, overgrown child," she stated abruptly. She resisted the urge to smile at the look of outrage that appeared on the fourth-year witch. "That being said, he's also my friend. Kind of. Sort of. He's … someone I've met. A friend of a friend. A fellow Gryff. And a fellow Hogwarts student, yeah. Basically, what I'm trying to say is, if this is some trick you've cooked up to hurt him, then I will find you and I will make you beg for death before I finally grant it."

Narcissa smiled widely. "We're going to be such good friends!" she squealed. "Sirius saved me from a fate worse than death. What would you do for the man that kept you from being sold or traded or gambled away like a poker chip?"

"I'm Lily," the Head Girl introduced herself. "And if you're going to hang around Gryffindor Tower permanently, then there are some things I think you should know." She smiled at the look of attentiveness the witch sported. She wasn't going to share anything sensitive of course, just enough to help her fit in.

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	15. 13 Gadding with Ghouls

**Author's Note:**

This is both a HP reworking of "Back to the Future" themes, and a soft reboot/reworking of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" and other things written by Rorschach's Blot. Used with the permission of their original authors (except for "Back to the Future" of course). The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter or anything else. Full disclaimer in the Table of Contents.

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Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.

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Canon-compliant. HP&DH compliant (except the Epilogue). HP&CC compliant (except the conclusion). FB&WTFT compliant. Pottermore compliant (mostly). Some crossover with: Naruto, Ranma ½, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Twilight, Lord of the Rings and Avatar: The Last Airbender. Primarily Harry Potter though.

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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "Weary Wizard" by Yunaine.

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* * *

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 **Part 3: Dolores Umbridge vs The Daily Prophet**

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 **Chapter 13 – Gadding with Ghouls**

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Any wizard bright enough to survive for five minutes was also bright enough to realise that if there was any power in demonology, then it lay with the demons. Using it for your own purposes would be like trying to beat mice to death with a rattlesnake.

– Terry Pratchett

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Diagon Alley during the Christmas holidays was a thing of beauty. Soft snow coated the streets and rooftops. Cheery, coloured lights adorned every shop. Tinsel hung in every window. Pixies and faeries flitted about like dancing spots of rainbow light.

Harry walked past yet another poster promising enormous rewards for any information concerning the tragic disappearance of a substantial number of children of prominent pureblood families. Rewards he wasn't the slightest bit interested in. No, he had a far more important task in mind. Pulling his nondescript wizard cloak tighter against the chill, he made his way through Knockturn Alley back to a familiar-looking storefront. To Harry's delight, the middle-aged man inside was dressed in a tan jumpsuit very similar to the ones in the movie.

"What can I do for you, kid?" the man behind the counter asked, face half-concealed by a big, bushy moustache.

"Um ... can I see your Proton Packs?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Muggleborn?"

"Close enough," Harry agreed.

"Hate to be the one to tell you, but we don't have any. Named the shop after the 'Ghostbusters' movie, but we use magic here, not technology," the proprietor explained.

"Oh." Harry's shoulders dropped. "What do you do?"

"Same as in the movie, you got a ghost or poltergeist or something similar that you want to get rid of, we do it."

"How?"

"Have a seat, kid." The man waved him over to one of the mismatched chairs. "Fore I forget, name's Dirk Murray, call me Dirk."

"Peter Pettigrew, please call me Peter" he replied, belatedly giving a small bow. Trying too late to remember Andromeda's wizarding etiquette lessons.

"Never expected to see such a well-bred young lad in my shop."

"Why not?"

"Most wizards don't like to have anything to do with necromancy if they can help it," Dirk explained, "Bit like normal folks regard working in a mortuary: necessary, but a bit creepy. Most respectable folks prefer to send a go between if they need the shop's services."

"What's necromancy?" Harry asked.

"Magic of the dead. Encompasses everything a mortician or a coroner does in the normal world along with busting ghosts. With the occasional raising for flavour," he finished with a smile. At Harry's confused look, he elaborated. "Some wizards are a trifle strange; 's not uncommon for one to wish to attend their own funeral or something similar ... best to not think about that, kid."

"Oh. They don't teach anything like that at Hogwarts," Harry offered.

"Wouldn't expect 'em to. Like I said, most wizards regard it as creepy but necessary. Hogwarts is where the future politicians, business leaders, and bureaucrats come from. You want to learn necromancy or how to be a tailor or anything frightfully blue collar, you go to one of the trade schools."

"What else can you do?" Harry asked. "Can you speak with people that have died?"

"I can't, but I know how you can if you're good enough," Dirk replied. "On the higher levels, it does a lot of other things I don't know much about, think it's how the Ministry manages to make deals with the Dementors too."

"Could you teach me?" Harry asked eagerly. This was a perfect opportunity to understand more about horcruxes, and any other weird soul magic Voldemort may have delved into. Harry was painfully aware of how ignorant he was about a lot of important things: horcruxes, the Resurrection Stone, the Veil of Death, Dementors. Perhaps necromancy even held the key to getting back to his original time! And if he could find a way to get rid of the Dementors for good, that would just be icing on the cake.

"A bit," Dirk agreed cautiously, "Why?"

"Well, uh, we've got a poltergeist at the castle that's always giving us trouble, I thought it might be nice to be able to threaten him into good behaviour," Harry lied, not wanting to give his real reasons.

"Sure," the man agreed, "But be sure not to banish him. Pretty sure the Hogwarts spirits are protected as being vital parts of the school."

"Doesn't mean I can't scare him," Harry countered.

"True," Dirk agreed, "How old are you, kid?"

"16."

"Okay, first thing you're going to need is a provisional license for underage sorcery. It'll let you do magic under my supervision or at my direction."

"I am an emancipated minor, you know."

"Wonderful, so you can sign legal forms then. Don't make no difference to underage magic usage, lad – unless you've got one of those fancy exemptions from the Minister …"

"No," Harry admitted reluctantly.

"Well there you go then. Only other way to use mage out of school is that provisional licence."

"Where do I get that?" Harry asked.

"Ministry has a branch office at the end of the street. Tell them that you're interested in all types of magic or that you're interested in seeing how the other half lives or something," he advised. "Do NOT tell them that you want to become a necromancer or any other trade job! You're a Hogwarts student, scandal would be enormous. And before you say something about not caring, you're not the one the angry mobs would go after for corrupting the bright young leaders of tomorrow." He made a mental note to strengthen the wards around the shop, maybe get a portkey or an off-the-books-Floo.

Harry considered this for a moment. "I read that in order to be a leader, you must first learn how your followers live. It's fascinating that anyone could live in such disgusting conditions. Did you know that they do the work of house elves?" Harry's eyes widened in comical shock. "Imagine it."

"Works for me, kid," Dirk agreed, "Might think about talking to some of the others along the street too. It'll give you a chance to learn a bit more than you can here, and it'll also give you a chance to see how the rest of your 'future followers' live."

"I was just kidding about that," Harry said quickly, "It's not anything I really believe."

"Believe it or not, chances are it'll happen, young Peter. Like I said, you're a Hogwarts student. Study hard and make lots of connections, and it's almost a sure ticket to at least moderate greatness, right?"

"I'm not trying to be great," Harry mumbled, staring down at his shoe covered toes as if they were the most fascinating things in the world. Bad things tended to be attracted to the 'great'.

"Don't know how often it happens to people who are," Dirk replied.

"I'm gonna go get that license," Harry mumbled, eager to get away from the uncomfortable conversation.

Harry stepped out of the shop and walked down the cobblestone street to the office of the Ministry representative for a meeting, pulling up his hood to obscure his face. The meeting turned out to be much easier than anticipated. The man had almost fallen over himself to help 'the new Lord Black' and given Harry much more than he had asked for. It was his first real taste of how much his unwanted Lordships could help him if he let them. Days after the incident, he would still be unsure if it left a sweet or a sour taste in his mouth.

Harry returned to the shop in a daze and plopped back down on the worn wooden chair he'd left only a few minutes ago. "How'd the meeting go?" Dirk prompted.

"He told me that he couldn't let me become some sort of tradesman, no matter how noble my reasons," Harry replied.

"Can't teach you without it, sorry, kid," Dirk sighed.

"So he made me a Deputy Code Inspector. Said it would look good on my application to the Ministry to have already worked for them in a lower position," Harry continued. The man had done a few other things for him as well, but the last thing Harry wanted was for anyone to think that he was trying to abuse his positions.

"What!? Let me see that!" Dirk took the paper from the boy's hands and stared at it for a few moments before bursting into laughter. "Looks like ol' Diggler is brighter than I thought he was. This is good for you, good for me, and good for Diggler."

"What?"

"It lets you learn anything you want, it lets him sit in his office and mark time till his retirement, and it gets me an in with the Ministry." Seeing the confused look on Harry's face, he decided to explain. "Way Diggler worded this, you can do any magic you want on this street as an on-duty DCI, and when you're in private, which is good for you. Diggler is marking time 'til he gets to retire, doesn't want to do any more work than he has to and this lets him dump a lot of what he really hates onto your lap without getting in trouble with the Ministry. One of his major duties, one he hates, is inspecting the shops. In the old days it let him take bribes, but the higher-ups take such a large chunk these days that none of the little fish bother with it anymore. Ministry won't say a word because he's helping a Hogwarts student with his education. Good for him. Good for me because you're in charge of code enforcement, unless I was wrong about being on your good side."

"Teach me and you'll be on my great side!" Harry declared.

"A win for everyone so long as you were serious about being willing to work this holiday break," Dirk summarised.

"I am," Harry agreed. "What can you teach me first?"

"A fairly boring and obscure mental art called Occlumency, you need to know it to avoid getting possessed by angry spirits you were hired to exorcise... well, you wouldn't be hired and it wouldn't be needed if all you're going to do is scare the poltergeist at Hogwarts, but it's good to know anyway," Dirk offered. "I'm told it also lets you keep from getting your mind read, but I don't know much about that."

"Okay," Harry agreed, curious to see whether his new friend/employer would use a different technique to that of dear 'Professor' Snape, and whether it would be more effective.

 _Who are you kidding? demanded the Grim. Of course it'll be more effective! There are bits of lemon rind floating down the Thames that would make better Occlumency teachers than Snape._

"What should I do first?"

"Go to your room, get comfortable, and try to let your thoughts drift." Dirk took a deep breath. "Relax, close your eyes, and try to get yourself in a state between being asleep and being awake."

"Then what?"

"Stay there as long as you can until you fall asleep," Dirk replied, "We'll go to part two at the end of the week if you think you're good enough."

"Okay," Harry agreed.

"Do the same thing tomorrow morning," Dirk said, "don't even bother getting out of bed unless you're hungry or need to use the loo. Come here after you've had lunch and we'll work on something else 'til it's time for you to practice that again."

"Alright," Harry agreed, "See you tomorrow afternoon."

"See you tomorrow, Pete," Dirk agreed, wondering if he would. Wasn't like anyone with a Hogwarts' education was likely to stick with blue collar work for long. To Dirk's surprise and pleasure, the boy arrived the next day for instruction. He wasn't sure how long the boy would come before he lost interest, but he was willing to enjoy what time he had with an eager young protégé.

"Have you eaten yet, lad?"

"Yeah, had something before I came today."

"Good, because I didn't think to bring enough for two," Dirk replied. The man pulled a plastic-wrapped plate out of the icebox and waved the tip of his wand in a square pattern, causing cube of red light to spring up around his frozen meal. The cube hummed with force for a few minutes as the plate rotated before fading away with a loud 'ding' sound.

"What was that?"

"Charm that can heat or cook simple meals, bachelor's best friend," Dirk replied. "Wife usually wraps leftovers up for me to bring to work." He pulled off the plastic wrap to reveal a beef noodle dish.

"What does she do?"

"Works at a jeweller selling overpriced baubles to rich ladies," Dirk said. "Met her at school, but she didn't want to try to get a job in the magical world. Too afraid that she'd be expected to provide 'extras' to the boss, assuming she could get anything at all." Take an honourable man not to lean on a girl as pretty as his, something that was in short supply in Magical England. Both honourable men and pretty girls that is.

"Extras?" Harry's nose wrinkled as he tried to work out the undercurrent.

"Not something I'm going to discuss with a kid," Dirk said firmly, "Just figure that being a muggleborn is hard enough as a man."

"Oh ... I wonder if Hermione knows," Harry mused.

"Who's Hermione?"

"My best friend, a muggleborn," Harry temporised.

"She's got a better chance than most, if she's a Hogwarts student," Dirk assured the boy, "Most muggleborn from Hogwarts manage to find something, well, those that don't marry into one of the important magical families right out of school anyway." He took another bite. "Wife and I went to a trade school, not in the same league as Hogwarts at all." Dirk finished his meal and cleaned the plate with a flick of his wand.

"So what are we going to learn today?" Harry asked eagerly, changing subjects.

"Did you do the exercises I showed you?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed, "not sure when I fell asleep though."

"Good enough. You can do half an hour less today and half an hour less tomorrow morning." Dirk yawned. "Cutting back ten minutes a day after that to about five minutes in the evening before you go to sleep and five in the morning after you wake up."

"What do I do after that?"

"They can tell you more about it at the solicitor's office down the street. I learned enough to keep from having to share space in my head with something I was trying to remove from someone's house. They learn it because they need to keep secrets, even the secretaries. Ask for Mandy if you go in, she's one of my wife's friends." Another looker too, one who'd managed to find a decent man to work for.

"I'll talk to them when I'm ready to go to the next step," Harry promised.

"Good. Another week before I can start teaching you necromantic spells, but I can teach you some of the others I know right now if you want." No way in hell was he going to teach the boy anything 'til he was sure the kid had the basic protections down so it didn't matter if he suddenly decided to quit.

"Sure," Harry agreed, "Could you teach me that cooking spell you used earlier?"

"Happy to," Dirk agreed. "Anything else you'd like to know?"

"Do you know any good defence spells?"

"A couple," Dirk agreed, "Mostly know how to deal with restless spirits, zombies, vampires, and the like." Fine for the occasional mugger too, provided he had blood on his hands.

"Could you teach me those too?" Harry asked eagerly.

"I could and I'd be glad to." He scratched his chin. "Feel free to drop by tomorrow afternoon to learn what I know if you like, but it might be a better idea to use the gym down the street, least in the morning and evening when I do most of my work."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"It's a bit low brow, but Jim, guy that runs the gym, was a champion prize fighter in his day. You want to learn defence, he'd be your guy. Like I said, most of what I know is how to defend against the dead since that's most of what I do."

"I'll check it out tomorrow morning before I come here," Harry promised before they started work on the handful of common household spells that Dirk found useful in day-to-day life.

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The gym was a big, boxy affair with faded white paint, a wooden sign hung above the door featuring two silhouetted figures in duelling stances facing each other. The door creaked when he opened it and a wave of wet heat seemed to hit him like the fist of a giant made of air. His nostrils were assaulted by the smell of a hundred generations of stale sweat and his ears rang with the sound of the bell announcing the start or end of a round. Harry paused for a second to allow his eyes to adjust to the dimly lit interior. As they did, he noticed that all of the walls were covered in peeling paint and posters of fighters, save one which held an impressive display of trophies. A ring sat proudly in the centre of the room and the remaining space was filled with a bewildering array of mysterious equipment.

"What can I do for you, kid?" an old man demanded, emerging from the gloom. His face was covered in scars, his nose favoured the left, and the set of his jaw indicated the lack of at least a few teeth.

"Dirk down at Ghostbusters, told me I should come here to learn some defence spells," Harry volunteered.

"You want to learn spells, you've come to the wrong place," the grizzled old man coughed, "You want to learn to fight, you've come to the right one. Which is it?"

"How to fight," Harry amended.

"Good, problem with most wizards is that they come into a fight with too many spells," the old man began, "Can't decide what to use and that costs them. Best thing to do, in my opinion anyway, is to have maybe a dozen you can use really well." The man gave a coughing laugh. "Hell, better to know three spells really well than a hundred you can barely cast. 'An expert with a stone can defeat an amateur with a katana'."

"Makes sense," Harry agreed with as much confidence as he could muster, trying to sound like he had enough knowledge to have an informed opinion.

"Fee is 15 galleons a month for training," Jim continued. "You get an hour of my time a day and as much of your time as you care to spend on the machines."

"Could I have two hours of your time a day for 30 galleons a month?" Harry asked hopefully. The old man gave him a sharp look. "Can you afford –" He trailed off as Harry poured out a small pile of gold from his pouch onto a nearby table. "Call me Coach!" Jim ordered. "At least two hours a morning for 30 galleons a month. Be here early tomorrow." And more if the boy would take it, Merlin knew how deserted this place got during the Christmas season.

"Thank you, Coach." Harry grinned. " What do we do first?"

"You want to start now?" the man asked, amused.

"If we can," Harry agreed.

"Go into the locker room and pick a locker without a name on it, there'll be a set of clothes to train in. Change and meet me out here." Harry was out and changed in five minutes. His habit of sleeping in at school had taught him how to change quickly.

"First thing we're going to do is warm up," his new coach pronounced. "I'm going to show you how to stretch, first thing I want you to do when you get here from now on is to go through this routine and then start jumping rope." After a quick warm up, Coach cleared his throat and began to explain his views on how duels were won and lost. "Simplicity is the key, like I said before, it's better to know a couple spells really well than to have a thousand you can barely cast. You and I, we're going to practice five spells this Christmas break," Coach began, "My opinion is that's all you need in the ring, only used four myself in my last title fight." Which he'd won less than a minute after the bell had rung, but the boy didn't need to know that yet.

"What about outside of it?" Harry asked.

"Aye, there's the rub, isn't it?" the old man sighed. "Outside the ring, there aren't any rules and there isn't any ref to save you. Tactics change a bit too, can't really use much transfiguration inside the ring but it can be deadly outside of it. I'll teach you what I know, work on the basics with you, but you'll have to find someone else to help you translate it to the real world. Best I can do, sorry, kid."

"It's good enough," Harry replied.

"Like I said before, we'll start on five spells and on conditioning. Work 'til you know those five spells so well you can cast 'em in your sleep. That's one aspect of duelling. Couple others we'll work on are dodging and fighting without a wand. Duel isn't over till you're out or you forfeit, knowing how to throw a punch can be the difference between taking home a full purse and an empty one." Or who ended up in a box feeding the worms, he didn't add.

Harry left the gym a few hours later tired, sore, and feeling like a thousand galleons. It was an odd feeling, the boy reflected, a mixture of horrible and great, as if his body wasn't sure how to react so was doing both at once. Harry's good mood vanished when he stepped up to Ghostbusters and saw a Closed sign in the window. What was he supposed to do now?

"Are you Peter?" a female voice asked.

"Yeah," Harry agreed.

"I'm Mandy," a pleasingly plump blonde woman introduced herself with a wide pouty smile. "Dirk had to go on an emergency call and asked me to tell you." She glanced at her watch. "And now I have to run 'coz I'm late and my boss is going to kill me."

"I could talk with him if you want," Harry offered. The woman evaluated him for a moment.

"You can help, Mr Pettigrew," she said quickly. "Thank you for offering, you're a life saver!" The woman led him to an office building where a weedy looking man with a receding hairline was waiting at the door. The man had a pair of thick round glasses covering an annoyed set of eyes and his lips were pursed.

"Ten minutes late," he said flatly.

"I'm sorry, Mr McKinnon, I was helping our new client with something," Mandy squeaked. "This is Mr Peter Pettigrew."

"New client?" The man's eyes focused on Harry. "I see, good work Mandy."

"Thank you, sir."

"Hogwarts boy?" he asked shrewdly. Harry nodded, as he was led into a cramped office, stuffed to the gills with piles of paperwork. "Do you know my daughters Alice and Marlene?" the man asked eagerly, indicating a framed family picture that was half buried by the detritus on his desk. "Gryffindor sixth years."

"We're in the same House. We have a few classes together," Harry replied. "They seem nice."

"Marximus McKinnon, magical attorney," he introduced himself. "What can we do for you today, Mr Pettigrew?"

"Um, what do you do here?" Harry asked.

"Good question," Marximus said with a wide smile, "Most people don't know that there's as many law specialisations as there are branches of magic, more even. We mostly focus on tax law here, my wife's an accountant, went to Hengefaddon to study numbers."

"Dirk mentioned I should talk to you about advice on how to work on my mental conditioning and um..." It seemed rude to just demand instruction. There had to be something useful a bunch of lawyers could do to help him. "I have recently inherited certain Houses and was wondering if there was anything I should know about the state of their finances? Any major risks? Anything of concern that I should know about? That sort of thing."

"Mandy's the one to talk to about Occlumency, that's the fancy name for your 'mental conditioning', hate to admit it but she's better at it than I am. As for your other issue, we'd have to obtain your authorisation to gain access to audit your Gringotts records … hold the fellytone, did you say 'Houses'? Plural?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes," Harry nodded. "The Ancient and Noble House of Potter and the Ancient and Noble House of Black." A mental command and his Lordship rings flashed into existence on his fingers. Marximus looked on in shock. His jaw opened and closed several times, but no words proceeded. "So," Harry offered, to try and break the silence, "how much do I owe you for your services?"

"Your signature on a paper and 50 galleons to start with," he replied automatically, eyes still glazed and unseeing. "I'll let you know as soon as we have something substantive to report."

"Thank you."

"No, thank you, Lord Potter-Black, for choosing to place your trust in me and this firm. Mandy, take the rest of the afternoon to help this young Lord with his studies. Sally!" he bellowed, "I'm going to need your help drafting a couple of letters!"

"Yes, Mr McKinnon," a woman's voice responded. Harry spent the rest of the day at the Law office learning a few more tricks to strengthen the security around his mind and to be on hand in case his new barrister had any more questions or needed any more papers signed.

After getting back to the Leaky Cauldron that night, Harry had a large meal before retiring to his room to go through his new exercises, both physical and mental. Upon awaking the next morning, Harry gulped down a couple bites of toast and rushed to the gym to start his new morning workout routine. Half an hour of stretching was followed by fifteen minutes of jump-rope and two hours of casting. Lunch followed that, which in turn was followed by a visit to his favourite shop for another lesson on the wonders of necromancy.

"Afternoon, Dirk," Harry greeted. "How'd the job go yesterday?"

"Messy, it's never good when you've got to get involved in a domestic dispute," he said. "My wife tells me you spent the afternoon at her friend's law firm?"

"Yeah, they're looking into some thing for me and they gave me some more exercises to improve my mental shields."

"Good work." The man reached under the counter and pulled out a couple books. "Dug these up for you last night."

"Thanks," Harry said. "What are they?"

"Some of my old, school manuals," Dirk explained. "I never bothered with the advanced stuff, make enough busting ghosts not to have to, but it's all there. Read 'em when you get home tonight and let me know if you have any questions."

"I will," Harry agreed. "Does this mean you're going to start teaching me necromancy?"

"Yup. OK, now the first thing we gotta do is attune your magic to the necromantic aura most spirits have. This is the most difficult part of learning necromancy and will show how far you can advance in the art. Like most branches of magic, necromancy replies on inborn talent as much as skill."

"Any way to improve your 'talent' if it turns out to be a little on the low side?" Harry asked anxiously.

"Several ways, not all dangerous or dark either. Being close to death enhances the talent. So, working in a hospital with the sick and dying can help. You can have a healer bring you close to death to really attune yourself, but that's considered borderline grey – and borderline insane for that matter." The man stopped and considered what to say. "Truthfully, the only feasible way a kid such as yourself could get more attuned is if the spirits themselves invited you to special events and you attended, or – I don't know, if you somehow got ahold of one of the Deathly Hallows."

"Like a Death Day celebration?" Harry asked.

"Exactly," the man agreed. "Having the dead notice you and invite you personally is about as good as it gets. Having a ghost hit on you works too."

"Hit on you?"

"Yeah, see a relationship with a ghost enhances the connection. Most powerful necromancers have a... relationship with the dead that isn't discussed."

"How do you mean?" Harry asked confused.

"I mean it isn't discussed, period, end of story."

"But—"

"Let's check your aura before we bother worrying any more or go breaking taboos that generally make my workload go up, okay kid?" Harry watched as Dirk cast an unfamiliar spell and waited for the results. "That can't be right," Dirk mumbled. "Let's try it again."

"Well?" Harry asked, waiting nervously for the results.

"Hmmm?" Dirk's eyes focused on the boy's face. "Well, we'll start off with a couple control exercises, then a couple more when you've got the first ones down."

"Okay," Harry agreed. "What's my power level?"

"Not sure. I must be casting the spell wrong," Dirk admitted. "I'll call in a favour and have one of my old professors drop by to do it later."

The afternoon went quickly, none of the exercises were very difficult and Harry was fairly sure he had them down by the time his stomach informed him that it was time to eat dinner. "Just remember," Dirk called after Harry as he was leaving the shop. "No more than fifteen minutes at a time per exercise. You don't get any benefit from going longer and you risk causing a blockage." Which was more annoying than dangerous.

"I'll be careful," Harry assured the man. Another night at the Leaky Cauldron spent practicing everything he'd learned was followed by another morning at the gym and another afternoon at his favourite shop.

"Hi boss," Harry said cheerily. "What're we gonna do today?"

"Afraid we can't do much till the end of the week when your mental shields are strong enough," Dirk said regretfully.

"Why not?"

"Like I said before, learning this stuff opens you up so you need to be able to keep things out. Sorry, Pete, but I'm not gonna let you take any risks you don't have to."

"Can we learn anatomy then?" Harry asked hopefully.

"What do you want to learn anatomy for?" Dirk said with a frown, fairly sure the kid wasn't asking for access to his porn stash.

"Recommends it in your book," Harry replied.

"Nurse's office three doors down on the left, butcher seven doors down on the right," Dirk said after a moment of thought, "not sure where else to look."

"Great!" Harry cheered.

Dirk eyed the boy critically. "While you're there you should get her to do a full physical. There's all sorts of nutrient and growth potions and so forth that can increase your height, speed, stamina and so forth. You'll need all the strength you can get when you're fighting ghouls. Thing is you need a prescription from a licenced health care professional before any apothecary'll whip 'em up for you. Most are on the Ministry's restricted substances list. And the potions ain't cheap. Still, it's the best way to avoid any … shortcomings with the body one was born with …" Dirk said as delicately as he could.

"That's a great idea, thanks! I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Just keep practicing your mental shields and the control exercises I taught you," Dirk called after the boy.

"I will," Harry promised as he darted out the door.

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Nurse Joy was bored. She flicked her pink hair idly and wondered if she should change it to blue. Were blue-haired people more vibrant and go-getting and extroverted with a hungry zest for life? She looked up when the door chimed and hit the ugly child that came through with a quick diagnostic charm. "Your diet is terrible," she scolded.

"I've been eating better these past few months," he defended quickly. "And exercising! I've already lost like, 20 pounds since the beginning of term!" So what if he were exaggerating a trifle, it was the intent that mattered right? Magic was all about intent, after all.

"Hmmm, I guess," she allowed, wondering what sort of monstrosity the poor kid used to be before he lost all that weight. "What brings you to my clinic?"

"Couple reasons. You've seen my, uh … condition. I was raised in the muggle world."

"Figures," she said pityingly. "Only muggles would let their children deteriorate to such an extent."

Harry squelched his irritation at such casual bigotry. Being a smartass was unlikely to net him any help. "Ah yeah. My friend tells me that there are potions that can help fix my physical condition: potions for nutrition, height, muscle growth, agility, speed, and so on. Things that can only be prescribed by a registered health official?"

"That's true," she nodded. "There are a number of potions regimes available depending on the situation. I warn you, they're very expensive."

"Not a problem. I want the works; cost isn't an issue. "

Raising her brow a little at his casual tone, she continued, "And if you go this route, you'll be permanently barred from all competitive sports, Quidditch, Quodpot, the lot."

"I don't care."

"Alright then, if you're sure. The best potions regime is one specifically tailored to your physiology and magic. I need to run some tests and take a sample of your blood." Nurse Joy had him sit up on the bed and spent the next hour running more detailed diagnostic charms and noting the results. She then took a blood sample and spent another half hour examining that. Eventually, she pulled out three dust-covered tomes and consulted them, writing out detailed notes and calculations. This information was then summarised on an official-looking document that she signed.

"Done," she announced, handing him the scroll. "Take that to an apothecary or potions master and have them brew the order for you. Might take them a while, some of these concoctions are very finicky and need a long time to perfect. Now, you should know that it isn't a magic fix for everything you may not like about your body. Well actually, it _is_ a magic fix," she giggled, "but even magic has its limits. You'll never become a seven-foot tall muscular behemoth, it's not in your blood."

"I don't care about becoming a basketball player; getting to six foot would be nice, but I'll take what I can get," he said, handing over his payment.

"Very sensible. None of us want to end up a kasbetall player," she nodded wisely. "Anything else I can do for you?"

"I wanted to learn anatomy and Dirk recommended you," Harry explained.

"Alright," she agreed. What the heck? It was better than sitting here staring at the eye charts on the wall and practising her pilimancy. "Have a seat." Harry hopped off the bed. She lifted a large book off the shelf and put it in Harry's lap. "Look at the pictures and tell me if you have any questions."

"Thank you," Harry said happily.

"So why did you chose the necromancy career track?" Joy asked.

"Necromancy career track?" Harry asked, nose wrinkling. "What do you mean?"

"At school. You did choose to study necromancy, didn't you? That's why you're working at Dirk's office over the Christmas Break, isn't it?"

"Oh, I'm sorry for the confusion Miss ..."

"Joy," she supplied.

"I'm sorry for the confusion, Miss Joy, but I'm not studying necromancy in school or working in Dirk's office." Harry looked up from the book. "I'm actually the Deputy Code Inspector for this street and that's why I'm learning things from all the shops."

"Aren't you a little young to be a DCI?" she asked, smirking.

"Why yes, yes I am," Harry agreed. "But they still made me one." He dug around his pockets and pulled out his paperwork. "See?"

Joy glanced at the paperwork, that was followed by a closer look when it appeared genuine. "You're serious aren't you?" she said dumbly.

"Nope, Sirius is my godfather," he retorted cheekily.

"Huh? Never mind, get my attention after you've finished flipping through that book," she ordered. "Just because all you came here to learn was anatomy, doesn't mean that's all I'm gonna teach you. There are a few basic spells I think that everyone should know and I'm not gonna let you leave without learning them." Harry spent another two hours in the Nurse's office till she closed for lunch, heading off to place his potions order with the apothecary.

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The butcher's eyebrow rose when he saw the boy enter unaccompanied by an adult, the other rose when the boy stated that he was the DCI and produced the paperwork to prove it. "What did you want to inspect first?"

"Dirk said I could learn about anatomy here?" Harry replied. "What do you think I should inspect?"

"How much time do you have?"

"An hour maybe?" Harry mused.

"Suppose I could teach you a couple cuts and show you the chart," the butcher said thoughtfully. Harry watched in fascination as the man wielded his wand like a surgeon's scalpel, separating familiar looking steaks from the carcass hanging in the back of the shop.

"That was wicked," Harry said. "Do you think you could teach me?"

"Can teach you the charms and how to use a knife," he agreed. "Takes a bit longer to learn where to cut."

"Why do you use a knife if you've got charms?"

"'Coz two of my employees are squibs and 'coz a knife doesn't wear you out as much. Only reason I ever use charms is because the purebloods get uncomfortable if you do anything that looks too muggle around 'em. Now first thing you need to know is the right way to hold your wand," he began. As they were variations of versions he already knew, Harry mastered the basic cutting charms used by magical butchers long before he needed to break for lunch. "Might have to teach you some of the others later," the butcher remarked, pleased by how quickly his student was picking things up. "Wonderful job, kid." They'd focus on knife work if the kid came back for a second lesson.

"Thanks, um." Harry looked around, trying to think of a way to pay the man back for all the help he'd given. "You know the law says that you have to keep your shop clean."

"We're a butcher shop. As the saying goes, if you like sausage, don't learn how it's made."

"I understand that you can't cut up the meat as clean as if you were cutting flowers. By the way, Jane at the Flowermart says 'hi'. No, what I was thinking was Nurse Joy showed me these cleaning spells they use in the surgery that might be useful."

"Write 'em down," the butcher asked. "I'll practice them while you're gone and you can do your inspection when you get back."

"Okay," Harry agreed, doing his best to copy down the spells on a piece of paper.

"Here," the butcher handed him another scrap of paper when he'd finished.

"What's this?" Harry asked.

"The spells I use to keep my apron white," the butcher replied. "Doesn't sterilise like your spells, but it makes everything look clean. Stains keep customers away."

"Wow! Nurse Joy was complaining about how hard it was to get blood stains out of her robes. This is great. I can share this with her, right?"

Lunch was followed by a return to the Nurse's clinic to do a bit more studying and to teach the woman the laundry charm he'd picked up from the butcher. That was followed by a return to the butcher's shop to conduct the promised health and safety inspection.

"Thank you, Harry," the butcher said, proudly hanging a notice stating that his shop had achieved a perfect score in the window. "First time I've ever gotten a perfect score without giving the Inspector a bribe."

"I didn't do anything," Harry said modestly. "Just passed on a couple charms I learned."

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Tom waived Harry over the second the boy got back to the pub and leaned in to whisper. "Hear you're going around the alley learning things, young Pete?"

"I don't really know much about the wizarding world," Harry agreed.

"That's what I figured," the old man said softly. "Come down in an hour and go to booth three in the back. There's someone that wants to teach you something."

"What?" Harry asked.

"Something you won't learn from no teacher but that you'll need to know if some of the rumours are true," Tom replied cryptically.

"Rumours?"

"Aye lad. We may be a ways away from Hogsmeade, but we still hear things as going on in Hogwarts. And round the rest of the country. Heard what you and your friends are doing to help protect our world from the degenerates. This is just a little helpin' hand. Now git going, son."

Harry went up stairs and took a quick shower, that was followed by a large meal. A glance at the clock confirmed it was time for his appointment and the boy crept downstairs to the appointed place. The private booth was dark, too dark to distinguish any of his new instructor's identifying details. All he could distinguish through the all-concealing shadows was a distinctly feminine shape, a few stray locks of blonde hair, and a hauntingly familiar chin. The smell of spilled alcohol and old tobacco permeated the air.

"Sit," the woman ordered.

"Why did you call me here?" Harry asked.

"I was scheduled to get my Dark Mark three months ago," the woman admitted softly. "I ran instead. Luckily as it turned out, I wouldn't have survived the ceremony." She took a sip of her drink. "I'm not going to go in to details, but in order to get the Mark you have to first prove yourself. It involves the death and torture of an innocent, usually a bit of rape thrown in for added flavour. The other Death Eaters watch and the Master judges." She raised a trembling hand to take another sip. "You get rated on how well you did. Lack of creativity earns torture, refusal earns a place at someone else's initiation."

"If you weren't willing to do what it took to earn a Mark, why did you join?" Harry demanded. "Why would any decent person even consider it?!"

"The Mark only goes to the real hard cores, the Inner Circle types which make up a small percentage of the Dark Lord's followers. Most of us joined to protect our culture ... No, that's not right. We joined to give our people the _chance_ to build their own culture. Look at the wizarding world, look how magic users crudely ape the muggle world they say they disdain." She took another sip of her drink. "We're parasites, producing nothing, aping the muggles, it's pathetic. The number of muggleborn entering our world every year increases at such a rate it ensures that we'll never be able to break the cycle. My goal wasn't to set the world alight, my goal was to loosen our ties with the muggles, to ... to give us long enough to develop our own culture. I joined a madman with what I thought were the best of intentions and my punishment was to watch my dream die. My penance is to give it up and to endure the life my youthful folly inflicted upon me."

"Is there anything I can do?" Harry asked, stung by the bitterness that coloured the woman's tone.

"You will come to meet with me three days a week, you will learn all that I can teach you, you will do your best," she ordered. "Perhaps helping you will silence the voices that torment me in the dark hours of the night." She downed the remainder of her drink. "Now leave a foolish woman to the only friend she has left in the world," the woman commanded, topping up her glass. "We shall see each other again at the same time, the day after tomorrow."

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Harry went through his usual routine the next morning; breakfast was followed by the gym which in turn was followed by a stop at his now favourite shop. "Mandy says her boss needs to have a word with you and she wants to check on your progress," Dirk announced as the boy came in.

The business with his solicitor didn't take long, he'd just had to sign a couple papers authorising the man to get some documents from the Ministry and a couple more authorising him to contact a few companies to ask about invoices and shipping receipts. The business with Mandy had taken a bit longer, the woman was determined that her 'little Lord' have the best mental shields possible. Because of this, it was nearly time for lunch by the time he got out. Harry walked out of his solicitor's office and paused as he tried to decide what to do next. On the one hand, he could go back to the Leaky Cauldron to get something to eat. On the other, he could put off lunch in favour of doing a bit more exploring. In the end, the decision was rendered mute when a dainty hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"Are you lost?" a soft contralto asked. "Do you know where your parents are?"

Harry turned to find himself face to face with a blue-haired woman wearing a red Aurors robe. "I'm not lost," he replied, ignoring the question about his parents.

Her stern look morphed into a smile. "You must be Peter, the shopkeepers have told me about how you've been hanging around the street. My name's Auror Jenny, I'm in charge of making sure this street stays safe."

"Pleased to meet you, Auror Jenny. I'm responsible for making sure all the Codes are followed," he said with a smile. The boy's hand darted into his pocket and emerged with his paperwork.

"I knew Diggler was lazy, but this takes the cake," she said in disgust. "You eaten yet?"

"No, Auror Jenny."

"Just Jenny," she said. "Come on, I'll buy you lunch. It's the least I can do for a fellow Ministry colleague."

"Okay," Harry agreed. "Where are we going?"

"Chip & Curry shop at the end of the street. It's got all three things I look for in a meal: cheap, fast, and good." Pity it didn't have healthy too, but as it wasn't one of her three criteria, she didn't worry about it overmuch. "Haven't been there yet?"

"I've only seen a little bit of the magical world," Harry agreed. "I barely know anything about it."

"Know what an Auror does?" she asked.

"Eh, I guess?" he tried a somewhat believable simulacra of childish ignorance.

"Most people think we're dark wizard hunters, and we are, but that's not all we are. What we do is solve problems."

"How do you do that?"

"Well, I personally walk my beat at least twice a day and sit in my corner box the rest of the time. Others inspect wards, conduct investigations, and do loads of other things. Best thing about being an Auror in my opinion is that there's so much variety you never get bored. Would you like to walk my beat with me after lunch to get an idea of how some Aurors work?"

"That'd be great," Harry agreed instantly.

"Just keep in mind that I'm a beat Auror. My job is to be visible and to help people, much less exciting than some of the other jobs Aurors do."

"Sometimes boring is good," Harry replied, thinking about how his years at Hogwarts ended the first time around.

Jenny regarded the boy out of the corner of her eye. Just what kind of life had he had to teach him that lesson at such a young age? "Sometimes it is," she agreed. Testament to its popularity, the shop was crowded with dozens of witches and wizards eating lunch when they arrived.

"Jenny, over here!" a male voice called out. Harry turned and saw a barrel chested man with a black beard and no hair waving them over to a corner booth.

"Bob!" she replied, a big grin on her face. "Come on, Harry, I'll introduce you." The Auror elbowed her way through the crowd and waved for Harry to take a seat as she slid in beside the man. "Peter, say hello to Chaoticus Shalimar Lovegood – but everyone just calls him Bob. Bob, Peter."

"Good to meet you," 'Bob' said.

"Good to meet you too, 'Bob'." Harry replied. "Any relation to Pandora Lovegood?"

"You know my great-niece!" he bellowed in delight.

Harry nodded. _Sweet Merlin, how many of them are there?!_ "We're in some classes together at Hogwarts. She's a good friend." Bob beamed. It was a terrifying sight. Harry, however, had had sufficient exposure to Luna, Xenophilius and Pandora over the years to be able to shrug it off with little difficulty. The nearby patrons were less fortunate; many tried to inconspicuously slip further to the other side of the room.

"Bob works on the presses at The Daily Prophet," Jenny explained. He was also her boyfriend of a year and a half. "You should check 'em out some time, they're pretty interesting."

"Could I?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Of course," Bob agreed. "I could give you a tour after lunch if you want."

"I can drop you off after we get done walking my beat if you like," Jenny added, hoping for an excuse to visit her man.

"That'd be great," Harry agreed instantly. The meal wasn't quite up to the Leaky Cauldron or the Hogwarts house elves, but it was quite a bit cheaper and he wasn't the one paying for it anyway, so Harry had no complaints. After they were finished, Jenny took him on her beat, giving the boy a thoroughly professional tour of London's magical shopping district. She introduced him to shopkeepers, she gave impromptu history lessons, she bought him an ice cream cone, and finally, she showed him another entrance to London proper.

 _It's amazing how much there is to see and do, observed the Otter pensively. All those years in the wizarding world, and we never thought once to explore Diagon and its side streets in any depth. Makes you wonder what else in our world we've been missing out on._

"One last street to walk and we can get you to the Prophet," she promised, taking the boy's hand and walking to a crosswalk. "Watch this," she said with a wink. The Auror reached into her pocket and gave her wand a twist, causing the lights to turn red and the crossing signal to come on.

"How'd you do that?" Harry asked, more than a bit impressed by what he'd seen.

"All the street lights are charmed so Aurors can switch them with the right wand movement," she replied. "DMLE tends to have a higher percentage of muggleborn and a much better relationship with their non-magical counterparts than the rest of the Ministry."

"Could you teach me?" Harry asked as they crossed the street.

"I'm not supposed to teach non-Ministry personnel, but since you're a DCI, sure. Just don't show your friends how to do it, okay?"

"Deal," Harry agreed instantly.

Auror Jenny glanced around to make sure no one was paying a whole lot of attention before hustling Harry towards and through a dilapidated wooden fence. "Wards on the street are supposed to keep anyone who doesn't know about magic from noticing anything strange, but it's always a good idea to double check." Especially since they were contracted out to one of the former Minister's cronies rather than the ward specialists that _should_ have put them up. More work for the DMLE, more work for the DoM that maintained the wards, a bit of extra gold for a corrupt politician and his toady. Sometimes she wished she was still ignorant about how the world really worked.

"What's on this street?" Harry asked, looking around.

"Businesses catering to muggleborn and halfbloods mostly," Jenny replied, pulling out her wand. "Watch what I do."

"Okay," Harry agreed, soaking in every detail as the woman demonstrated the twist that would control the lights outside.

"We'll let you do it for real when we go back," Jenny stated. "Now, main thing the Ministry expects us to do in this alley is bust people for illegally enchanting muggle devices. Way I avoid that is by stating that I'm a pureblood and don't know what a muggle device is supposed to look like. Way I suggest you deal with the problem, should it ever come up, is by sneering that it's not your job to deal with enchanted muggle items. Ask for a bigger budget if they press you on it."

"Okay?" Harry said unsurely.

"Shouldn't come up, I'm just telling you how to deal with it if it does. Another good thing to do is to demand your union rep and to let CI Diggler handle things. Man's a master of bureaucratic infighting."

The bell on the door rang as they walked into the nearby junk – that is to say, antique – shop, and Harry got his first look at the interior of the store after his escort had moved aside. The centre of the store was filled with a number of large, raised bins filled with every imaginable category of single and album, separated by clean hardwood paths. The back of the store was taken up by two soundproof listening booths. The area around the display window was dedicated to record players ranging from old Edison type wax cylinder players to relatively modern turn tables. The walls were papered with posters and a young green haired clerk leaned on the counter bracketed by a register on one side and a rack of spare needles on the other.

"Business or personal, Jenny?" the clerk, a youngish looking man asked with a grin.

"Personal," the Auror replied. "Thought that young Peter here may want a record player or some such to take back to Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts?" the clerk's eyebrows rose. "You'll want something that doesn't use electricity then."

"Because electronics don't work at Hogwarts, right?" Harry asked, having a vague memory of Hermione quoting something along those lines from her favourite book.

"Because the Professors tend to make things they _know_ are electronic not work at Hogwarts," the clerk replied. "Least that's the rumour. Hogwarts is the school where the elite send their children, can't have the little darlings contaminated with muggle things, can we?"

"You'll want to watch what you say around Aurors and Hogwarts students in the future, Jacob," Auror Jenny said calmly. "Especially when that Auror is a pureblood and the Hogwarts student is a Ministry employee."

"Come on, Jenny, I know you're alright and I know you wouldn't bring anyone to my shop that would cause a problem," the clerk replied, sounding a bit annoyed.

"I'm alright, Peter's alright, I might someday bring in a trainee who isn't," Jenny said firmly. "Be careful till you know who you're dealing with."

"Is it really that bad?" Harry asked. He wasn't liking what he hearing from the offhanded comments made by the people around the alley.

"Yes and no," Jenny said. "There are a lot of laws on the books that can be used to harass people that are ignored most of the time. Jacob has a few things in his shop that aren't technically legal."

"Not technically illegal either," the man added quickly.

"But that won't matter if he gets on the wrong side of the wrong person," Jenny continued. "A pureblood trainee Auror from the wrong family, a Hogwarts student from the wrong family, that sort of thing. That's why he needs to be careful," she said firmly, giving the man a sharp look.

"I will be, Jenny, I always am."

"Good." She flashed a dazzling smile.

"Right, so you wanna look at some artefacts to play music with at school, eh," the clerk mused. "How 'bout a Victor V phonograph?" the clerk suggested. The man reached under the counter and pulled out what appeared to be a wooden box with a bell shaped metal horn perched on it. "Hand crank, should look antique and mechanical enough to get a nod from most anyone."

"How old is it?" Harry asked, staring at the device with wide eyes.

"Think we put this one together six or seven months ago," the clerk replied. "Might be younger, might be older."

"But it looks like it's at least a hundred years old," Harry protested.

"Model we based it on is about that age," the clerk agreed. "This thing is ancient enough so that even the most traditional purebloods tend to be comfortable with it, let's them pretend they don't know it came from muggles. Means there's a market which means we build 'em to fill the demand."

"How's the sound quality?" Jenny demanded.

"Few subtle enchantments to make it quite a bit better than the original version. We also enchant the records to keep them from wearing out or breaking. Care for a demonstration?"

"Yeah," Harry said enthusiastically.

"Pick out a record and take the left listening room, that's the one we have another Victor V set up."

"Not going to show us how to use it, Jacob?"

"Can't leave the counter," the clerk explained. "Not unless I had a really good reason," he purred, batting his eyelids.

"My boyfriend would rip your arms off and shove them up your –" she glanced at Harry – "nose," Jenny giggled. "Wouldn't even have to use his wand."

In the end, Harry left the record shop a few galleons lighter with a phonograph, a shrunken case containing what the clerk had described the bare minimum needed to start a collection, and a short book titled _'Every Day Magic for the Normal World'_ which the clerk had recommended due to the fact that it contained several spells allowing one to change records without leaving their chair and Harry had bought because it contained a spell on how to change television channels from another room. Take that Ron, you channel-surfing-nazi!

"What else is on this sidestreet?" the boy asked.

"Oh, loads of things," Auror Jenny replied. "Corner shop, hardware store, couple places to eat, a small healer's office specializing in everyday problems, grocer, butcher, baker, candlestick maker."

"What, candlestick maker?" Harry gave her an odd look.

"Just wanted to see if you were listening, Pete" she said sweetly. "You'll find everything on this street that you'd find on a normal shopping street in normal London." She looked up and waved her hand at the windows. "Plus a generous amount of living space. So that's the three streets I take care of," she continued. "Other streets belong to other Aurors."

"Wow!"

"Ready to head to the Prophet?" She asked, happy to have an excuse to visit her boyfriend on the Ministry's galleon.

"Yeah," Harry cheered.

They left the shopping street and came to a halt at the cross walk. Auror Jenny nudged Harry after a minute of waiting, prompting him to hastily cast the spell needed to get across the road. "Good work," she said with a wide grin. They waved to a couple familiar people as they strolled down the street to the nondescript building that housed The Daily Prophet. "I'm here to see Bob," Jenny announced as they strolled through the front doors.

The Chief Editor stuck his head out of his office. "Does he know you're coming?"

"Yup," Jenny agreed.

"Does he know I'm going to dock his pay for visiting his girlfriend on company time?" he added with a playful grin.

"Did you know I have the Deputy Code Inspector with me?" Jenny shot back. "Wonder what sort of fines you'd get if he was in a bad mood?"

"Where?"

"Chief, I'd like to introduce you to DCI Peter Pettigrew," she said, patting the boy on the back.

"A pleasure to meet your acquaintance, DCI Pettigrew." The Chief Editor stepped out of his office and squatted down to be at eye level with the boy. "So, DCI, how'd you get that job?" Might be worth a paragraph or two to help fill one of the back pages.

"Chief Inspector Diggler gave me the job so I could learn more about how people run their businesses without breaking the law about underage magic," Harry said.

"Interested in the magic of the common people, huh?"

"I'm interested in all magic," Harry replied. "I didn't know about it at all till I got my letter."

"Wonderful attitude," the Chief Editor said, widening his grin. The man rose to his full height and turned to the receptionist. "Bob's in the back working on the big press. Tell him to take a few minutes to show DCI Pettigrew around."

"Got it, Chief," the woman agreed.

"DCI Pettigrew, I'd appreciate it if you told me about any health or safety violations or even potential violations you might see," he requested formally. Never hurt to cultivate the leaders of tomorrow. The receptionist took them deeper into the building and stopped before a gleaming chrome stairway. "Wanna see a neat trick?" the woman asked with a wicked grin. Harry nodded, a matching grin forming on his face. "Take out your wand."

"Okay," the boy complied.

Her hand wrapped around his wrist and led him in a complicated pattern, causing the stairs to start moving up. "One of the former editors had it enchanted to help him get up when he started having trouble with the stairs. Neat, huh?" Harry nodded.

Bob was just finishing with one of the large presses when they found him on the upper level. "See if she'll start up!" he ordered. To his visible pleasure, it did. "Decided to join us, Peter?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed.

"I'll give you the penny tour," he said. The purpose of the Prophet, Bob explained, was to inform the public about important events in the wizarding world. His purpose at the Prophet was to make sure the giant presses that turned out the papers remained running as much as possible. The tour that followed was illuminating. Harry saw giant tubs of ink that flowed thicker than anything they used at Hogwarts, a thousand nooks, two thousand crannies, and the musty basement storage area where copies of all the earlier editions were kept in perpetuity. "Kinda interesting to come down here sometimes to read the early issues and see what people cared about in the old days," Bob added.

Coincidentally, the tour ended the same time Bob and Jenny got off work and so Harry ended up having another meal with the couple before getting back to the Leaky Cauldron. He sat on his bed and pondered for a long time before turning in. What he'd seen today was generating a bunch of ideas. Ideas that would need to percolate in his brain for a while before they could come to fruition. He jotted down a number of questions to ask Pandora and Odd the next time he saw them.

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There was a strange man in the shop when Harry arrived to visit Dirk the next morning. He looked a lot like Dumbledore with his long white beard and oddly decorated robes, little skulls rather than planets. The glint in his eye was the main difference, suggesting barely restrained madness rather than grandfatherly approval. "You must be Peter," the man said with a grand smile, springing to his feet, much more sprightly than his apparent age would suggest. "Pleasure to meet you, Dirk's told me wonderful things about you and your desire to study magic's most fascinating and underappreciated-by-the-living art, wonderful things."

"A pleasure to meet you, sir," Harry replied. The boy discovered his hand had been captured and vigorously pumped.

"This is Master Necromancer Aleister Dee," Dirk introduced the man. "He's here from the Necromancers' Guild to double check your power levels."

"Thank you for coming, sir," Harry said politely.

"Happy to be here," the man replied. "Would have been happier if I'd known how late you came in so I could have had a bit of lounging about this morning, but such is life."

"Harry spends his mornings at the gym down the street learning how to fight," Dirk volunteered quickly.

"Something necromancy can be quite useful for if you know the right spells," Aleister said with a wide smile.

"Really?" Harry's eyes were sparkling.

"Of course," the man agreed. "If not for my interest in offensive magic, I'd have never survived the zombie plague of '13." He wrote down a spell and handed it to the boy. "We usually use this one when dealing with particularly dangerous undead."

"What's it do?" Harry asked.

"It summons the sacred fire and casts your foes into the molten maw of an insatiable gort," he replied with a grin. "Just be sure there's something around for the gort to eat or he might decide to eat you." That wasn't strictly true, gorts had a remarkably refined palate and had stated more than once that humans weren't flavourful enough unless first marinated in dark magic and decay for a decade or two.

"Really? Wow!"

The old man chuckeld. "Sorry lad, just kidding. The only spells around that can do that all involve some rather distasteful blood-rituals. That spell is useful for shredding the very souls of your enemy asunder though, so still pretty useful. No you remember to be careful with that, no testing it on your little Hogwarts friends in jest."

"Okay," Harry promised.

"Sure it's a good idea to just give him the spell without any instruction, sir?" Dirk asked.

"Fine," the man agreed. "We'll practice it later, Peter, to make sure you know what you're doing."

"Okay, sir," Harry said quickly.

"Should probably show you the primary shield spell we use when we're fighting against hordes of the undead too," he said thoughtfully. "Creates a safe bubble around you that protects against spiritual and elemental attacks. Can also be cast around ghosts to temporarily trap them like rats in a particular location. Heh heh, a previous Minister (who shall remain nameless) was able to endure the presence of his predecessor for two days before calling me and the Guild to explain that his proposed a Dark Art Tax on necromancy had all been a big misunderstanding and that he'd really appreciate it if we'd be willing to let bygones be bygones. Things were resolved to mutual benefit; ours more than his, of course. But we can discuss that later, after we've taken care of the reason I came here today. Testing your necromantic affinity."

"This'll be just like last time," Dirk told the boy. "Just relax."

"This can't be right," the Master Necromancer mumbled. He recast the spell and rechecked his results.

"Is it bad?" Harry asked.

"No, it's good," the old man said absently, trying to figure out how a schoolboy had many times more necromantic energy than he did. Surely it couldn't be from simply hanging around that paltry number of ghosts that were laughably said to 'haunt' Hogwarts? Possibly it was due to near exposure to the Killing Curse? Thor knew, there were plenty of those being slung around, even at women and children in these troubled times. He was far too polite to ask the boy direct whether any Death Eaters had been sending _Avada Kedavras_ his way lately, though. He made a mental note to send a copy of his results to a friend at the DoM, maybe she could make sense of the odd readings he was getting from the boy.

Harry spent a rather enjoyable afternoon learning a number of very dangerous spells of the sort used by professional necromancers that specialised in dealing with the more lethal sorts of undead.

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At Tom's direction, Harry went directly to the private corner booth to speak with his most mysterious tutor when he got back to the Leaky Cauldron that night.

"Have a seat, Peter," the woman ordered. "Have you eaten?"

"Not yet, ma'am," he replied politely.

She signalled for Tom's presence. "I suppose the correct way to do so will be the first thing we'll cover then."

"What else are you going to teach me?"

"Politics, society, how to conduct yourself as befitting your station, etiquette." The woman took a deep pull of her drink. "How Death Eaters are recruited, what the meetings were like, everything I know about the bastard and his slaves." The lesson was odd to say the least, his instructor spent the first half of the meal silently watching him eat and the next half calmly explaining what he'd done wrong and why.

"Your every gesture screams to the world who you are," she stated firmly. "From your clothing, to your haircut, to your handwriting, to the way you eat your steak. The important thing is that you train yourself to be able to present whatever image you wish to show. We'll meet again in two days," she said dismissing him. "Bring a parchment and some quills."

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	16. 14 Marauding with Marge

**Author's Note:**

This is a continuation/soft reboot of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse, with a bunch of changes. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" by Rorschach's Blot. Both are used with the permission of their original authors. The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter or anything else.

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Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.

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Canon-compliant. HP&DH compliant (except the Epilogue). HP&CC compliant (except the conclusion). FB&WTFT compliant. Pottermore compliant (mostly).

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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "A Black Comedy" by nonjon.

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Question of the Week: Did Harry really name his second son after the two people who'd inflicting more misery onto his life than anyone outside of Voldemort and the Death Eaters? (No wonder he was so angsty all the time in HP&CC, poor kid was handicapped from the very start)

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 **Chapter 14 – Marauding with Marge**

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A mouse does not rely on just one hole.

– Plautus and George Herbert

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Harry had just sat down to sample Tom's Irish stew of the day, when the doors opened and emptied two men in cheap standard-issue bureaucratic Ministry robes into the Leaky Cauldron. Seeing him, they hurried over to his table.

"Can I help you?" he asked. Automatically, his left hand dropped to seek the reassuring presence of his wand.

"Yes," one of the paper-pushers agreed, pulling out his wallet. It showed an official-looking ID. "We're with the Ministry's customs and revenues sub-section and we're looking for one Peter Pettigrew."

"May I have a closer look at that ID, please?" Harry asked politely. "His too." Harry took the cards and examined them thoroughly. "Well," he said after he was assured that they appeared genuine, "I'm Peter Pettigrew. How can I help you two gentlemen?"

"Were you perhaps named after your father?"

"No," Harry said flatly. "I've never met my father." Damn Pettigrew Sr for running out on his family all those years ago. The two officals shared a meaningful look. "You aren't hear about non-payment of taxes are you? I'll admit that I haven't looked into my finances so I can't be sure it's been dealt with. You need to speak to my tax lawyer, Marximus McKinnon."

"Nothing like that," the man hastened to assure him. "It's just that we expected you to be older."

"Why?"

"You are Peter Pettigrew, expert of predatory birds, are you not?"

"I wouldn't call myself an expert," Harry demurred modestly. "I've only ever had the one." He felt that familiar ache of loss whenever he remembered his beloved snowy owl, the first friend he'd ever had.

 _Prek! barked the Owl in commiseration._

"What kind of bird did you have?"

"Snowy owl. Bubo scandiacus. They used to think they were the sole member of the nyctea scandiaca until recently, but recent tests have shown that they're very closely related to a horned owl. Males are pure white, females and young have dark scalloping." He may not be Hermione, but he had been very motivated to learn anything that might help him better take care of Hedwig.

"That explains it then," said one of the men with a hint of a smile.

"They've sent you another bird," said his partner, indicating the large crate that they'd levitated in behind them. Tom and the other customers of the Leaky Cauldron were watching curiously. "We aren't sure what it is. Looks a bit like a Pallid Harrier but, well … take a look for yourself." He flicked his wand, and the heavy wooden slats removed themselves from the cage within, stacking themselves neatly in an unused corner.

Harry walked up to the cage and inspected the bird through the bars.

"Well?"

"Most of what I know is about owls," Harry said with a frown. "You're right though, it or rather she looks a lot like a Pallid Harrier or maybe a Montague's Harrier."

"How do you know it's a female?"

"Size mostly," he muttered. "I could be wrong. I definitely think it's from the genus Circus."

"So you're not sure what she is?"

"No," Harry admitted. "I might be able to identify her if I could get a picture or two to some people I know. Sorry I couldn't be more of a help but like I said, if it's not an owl then I don't know much about it."

"No problem, Mr Pettigrew," one of the men said with a grin, "we were just satisfying our curiosity. This magnificent creature was sent to you. It caused some confusion at first, until we checked the records and learned that you have all the appropriate licensing and certification to own and care for predatory birds."

"I do?" Harry asked in surprise. "I mean, of course I do. Thank you then."

"Pleasure to be of service," said the other official. "Sign here please," he withdrew a sheaf of legal papers.

"Of course," Harry agreed, accepting the quill. "Not that I'm complaining mind you, but do you guys usually make deliveries?"

"We were curious to know what she was," the man replied. "Especially after an hour of flipping through books didn't get us an answer. Besides, it'd be a crime to keep this gorgeous girl locked up at the Ministry holding warehouses until you were able to pick her up."

"True," Harry agreed. He pursed his lips as he thought of something. "There aren't any more things delivered to me sitting in that warehouse waiting for me to arrive are there? Especially living things?"

"Not that I'm aware of. If there are, Ministry'll send you or your lawyer an owl advising of it. Have a good day, Mr Pettigrew."

"You too," Harry waved as the officials departed. Harry and his new pet were immediately the centre of attention, many of the patrons cooing and reaching forward to tentatively stroke the bird through the bars. The avian fluffed her feathers and gave a few warning snaps.

"Uh Tom, if it's alright with you, I'd like to take my lunch up in my room. I think all the attention is upsetting her," Harry said to the proprietor. "Do you allow guests to keep pets with them."

"No," Tom shook his head, "but owls are an exception, people gotta have them otherwise they got no way to send mail. I suppose I could extend that a wee bit to cover owl-like birds."

"Thanks Tom," he replied gratefully, and took up the cage, carefully carrying it to his room and placing it on the table. Tom followed and left his stew on the chair to cool. "Shhh, easy girl," he tried to soothe his newest pet. "Don't worry, I won't let any of those other people touch you if you don't want them to." He smiled when the bird settled down a bit. "Why don't I let you out to stretch your wings a bit. Merlin only knows how long you've been in that cage."

Checking to make sure the doors and windows were firmly shut, Harry mumbled to himself, "Now here's the tricky part," and cautiously opened the cage door. "Let's hope she doesn't savage me too badly." He cautiously reached in. To his delight, the bird calmly hopped onto his forearm and allowed him to move her from the cage to perch on the headboard of his bed. "There we go," he said as it made itself comfortable. "It's so nice to have another bird around ever since my last one … suffered her accident," he said sadly.

Harry took a couple more seconds to admire the bird before turning away. The bird watched intently as he took his shirt off, and nearly fell off its perch when his pants followed. Grabbing the towel, he figured he may as well get a shower in while he waited for his meal to cool. Then they could sally forth to procure some supplies for his new pet. Stepping out of the shower a few minutes later, Harry immediately bent down to check on the bird. After assuring himself that she hadn't distressed herself while he was gone, he turned away and bent over to get a clean set of clothing. A long, worm-like tongue snaked out of the corner of her beak as she eyed her newest toy. She'd originally planned to identify herself as soon as she arrived, but this … this was much better.

Harry packed his things and finished his now-cool stew. He checked the cage for shipping labels or feeding instructions. After a few minutes of searching, he finally found the shipping manifest, which was stuck upside down on the inside of the cage for some reason. "Hmmm looks like French," he turned to the bird, "Did Apolline send you, my lovely?" This prompted an enthusiastic nod. "I'll have to remember to thank her then."

"Cree!" she trilled eagerly.

"Well then, shall we be off, my dear?" he asked grandly, proffering his elbow as if he were inviting a lady to take a promenade. With a cheery chirp, she spread her wings and fluttered onto his shoulder. "Such a clever girl," he complimented. The duo strolled out into Diagon Alley and made their way to the pet store. It almost felt like wandering the Alley with Hedwig perched atop him once more. After purchasing a range of birdseed and a water dispenser for the cage, he arranged for the supplies to be delivered to his room at the Cauldron.

"All this talk of deliveries has reminded me that I need to pay a visit to a certain wandmaker in Knockturn," he told his new pet conspiratorially. "You want to come along?"

"Cree!"

"Then we shall be off!" It didn't take long to retrace his original route through Knockturn now that it was broad daylight. "Hello, Mr Whizzpopper."

"Mr Black! So you be back."

"I am indeed, came to check on how my order is coming along."

"It be comin'," the old man said, with a touch of surliness. He turned to squint at Harry's avian companion. "Ye aware that yer bird is a girl?"

"I thought so," he grinned, "based on the size and plumage. You wouldn't happen to know what species she is would you?"

"No, I mean she be _really_ a girl; she be no bird!"

"What?!" Harry made a frantic grab for his wand as the disgruntled bird lifted off him to alight on the back of a nearby chair. Snidely also seized his wand and brought it to bear. Whereupon she promptly transformed into a very familiar-looking girl.

"Zut! Attende, eet eez me, my Pierre!" she cried out, hands raised in surrender. "I weel do you no 'arm!"

"Apolline!" Harry shouted in relief and confusion, wand-arm relaxing. "Hang on – you can speak English?" he demanded.

"But of course I can speak Eenglish!" she sniffed dismissively, lowering her hands. "You think I would be admitted to ze Hogwarts' zird year classes if I could not?"

"But … wait … you … why did you never speak it before? Why did you make everyone think you only spoke French?" Harry felt like kicking himself for being such a monumental idiot. Why hadn't he thought of that right from the get-go?

She shrugged. "I avoid using your barbarous tongue as much as eez possible. And with zat grouchy redhead around you all of ze time, zere was no need to."

"I don't speak French," he grumbled, sheathing his wand.

"And by me only using it around you, encourages you to learn it faster," she said, with the air of someone who knows they've won the argument.

Harry sighed. At least he wasn't alone in his foolishness, the brilliant genius Lily Evans was in the same boat as he in this débâcle. Ship of fools more like. "Alright, you win," he conceded, "Now what the bloody hell are you doing here?"

"I came to see mon chévalier of course," she insisted.

"By tricking me?"

"Eet was no trick! I was planning to reveal myself," she lied, "but zen you decided on an outing. Eet eez not safe for Veela to be wandering ze streets of London in zese troubled times!"

"I suppose that's fair enough," Harry admitted grudgingly. "But you could have just approached me at school if you wanted to hang out, instead of tracking me down in Diagon. I assume my sudden status as a bird expert and carer is your doing?"

"But of course! Zese stupid Eenglish bureaucrats are easy to run ze circles around. And you say I could come be with you at any time – I say, non! No, I could not! You 'ave been ignoring me for ze past month," she declared petulantly. "Always swanning around with zat foul-tempered redhead and zat spacey scientist with 'er Igor. Always running and lifting 'eavy zings with your little club. Never any time for poor Apolline," with tears in her eyes. "You become my 'ero and zen throw me away as soon as another pretty face comes along," she sobbed.

"That's not it!" Harry said, gesticulating desperately. "Not at all! I do want to spend time with you, and I've missed being with you as well –"

"Excellent!" Apolline cheered, her tears disappearing instantly.

Whizzpopper rolled his eyes in disgust.

"In fact, why don't you come join the HA as a full member once term starts again," Harry offered. She offered him a dazzling smile. He couldn't resist grinning back.

"This bird a friend of yours then?" the old man demanded, still not sheathing his own wand.

"I am Pierre's betrothed," she stated condescendingly. "We shall not be parted."

"'S that so?"

"Yes … well, it's a long story, you see. It began – wait a tic, why do I need to explain myself to _you_?" Harry turned back to the little Veela. "How are you able to turn into a bird? I thought you could only sprout wings and claws and suchlike, not transform completely into an owl-like creature. Are you an animagus?"

She shot him a pitying look. "Do you know nothing about Veela, Pierre?"

"That would be a no," Harry admitted.

"Veela 'ave more zan one form once we 'ave matured. I 'ave two at ze moment, and 'opefully one day I weel achieve a zird. But we can speak of such zings in private," she added, glaring at the seedy old man who was taking far too much of an interest in their private conversation. "For now, let us extract what zis gutter-dweller owes you and be off."

Snidely's brows drew together, but before he could retort, Harry cut in.

"Well, perhaps that was phrased badly, but she does have a point, Mr Whizzpopper. I believe you have some wands for me?"

"Bravo, Pierre," his companion encouraged him. "Très masculine; you show zat peeg who eez ze Lord and who eez ze dogsbody."

The old man reluctantly put his wand away and reached under the counter, withdrawing a mahogany box. "Aye. 15 of yer wands be here. Still haven't found any longma parts or Veela hair for the last 10 cores though. I be warning ye that they be rare."

Harry froze. His rat-senses could feel a buildup of negative energy right behind him, the air beginning to crackle around him. His rat-instincts demanded he cower and flee the building immediately! Whirling around, he turned to see a very agitated Veela staring daggers at him. Her hair frizzed out with static elelctricity, sparks literally flashing from her eyes, crackling balls of blue-white fire forming in her palms. Harry opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but his throat was suddenly dry and closed off. His choked attempt at a response was drowned out by the whoosh of magic. Snidely seized his wand once more.

"Are you saying to me, my dear Pierre," she hissed, in a soft, slow and deadly tone, "zat you were going to obtain new wands … filled with ze 'air of some Veela hussy … instead of asking _me_ for _mine_?!"

"Uh, well you see, um, I put this order through long before we met so …" Harry discreetly took a step, or seven, backwards.

"Inexcusable! Once we were betrothed, you should 'ave sent zis slime immediately my 'airs to include in your collection!"

"Sorry! I didn't think of it!"

"No," she agreed. "You did not zink. Zat much eez obvious." The fire in her fists disappeared and the level of energy charging the room began to dissipate. Whizzpopper and Harry sighed unconsciously in relief. Whirling to face the old man, Apolline stated in no uncertain terms, "You weel take my 'airs for ze cores of zese wands zat are lacking."

"All 10?" asked the man.

"Oui, all 10."

"But, that be to say …"

"Zat is zat," Apolline said firmly. Reaching up, she deliberately plucked 10 silver-blonde hairs from her head and levitated them onto the counter in front of the wandmaker. "No other Veela shall ever get zeir claws into you," she stated to the Harry. "Zose beeches weel 'ave not even an inch of you; not even in ze core of your wands, nor ze fibre of your robes! Are we clear?"

"Understood," he agreed weakly. "Won't happen again …"

With a firm nod, she transformed back into a bird and flew out of the door and into the Alley.

The was a moment of silence.

"Right. Well, I'll just be takin' these hairs an' finishin' up yer order then," said Snidely faintly. "Should take a week or two to complete. Have a nice day, Mr Black."

Harry absently grabbed the mahogany box filled with his wands then hurried out of the store, hoping there was some way to find and mollify one very angry Veela that he was somehow kind-sorta engaged to.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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Harry and Apolline were taking a stately promenade down the main thoroughfare of Diagon, enjoying the sights and sounds and life of the Alley and its denizens. It had taken a day and a half for Apolline to finally calm down from her temper-tantrum; in the end, Whizzpopper's delivery of the first of his new Veela-hair wands had been the final mollification. Harry had made it a point to make sure he only ever used that particular wand whenever she was around, as it seemed to please her greatly. Harry kept raising with her whether her parents knew where she was, and wouldn't she like to be with her family for Christmas, but the wily girl had a dozen different methods of deflecting the topic and steering them onto other subjects.

Harry had finished his physical and magical training for the day, and was enjoying the two-hour break he had until his next session with Mandy. Apolline had insisted on coming along to everything he was doing, although she mostly sat in the background and observed intently, without interference. They were just deciding which restaurant to try out, when they were hailed by an unexpected passerby.

"Heyo!" chirped Lily Luna, making a beeline for them, dressed as usual in her Hogwarts' Gryffindor uniform. "What's happening? Hey, you're Apolline Delacour!"

"But of course I am," Apolline purred, inordinately pleased at being recognised, and with such obvious admiration too. "Pleased to meet you Miss …"

"Lily Luna," the girl grinned. "I'm a … distant relative of Peter and Lily's."

"Eez zat so?"

"So where are the rest of your merry men?" the redhead looked around.

"You want the list? Pandora's gone with Odd and his parents on a trip to the States. Apparently she's lived with his family ever since her parents … passed away. Those two are practically siblings, joined at the hip since they were six.

 _Is that why they didn't bite when you tried to matchmake them, I wonder? mused the Otter. Makes one wonder why they did end up getting married, at least in some other timelines? Maybe because they were the only ones they'd ever met who actually understood the other?_

 _More like they were the only ones inhabiting whatever planet they're living on! interjected the Grim._

"So the whole family's gone there on some sort of safari," Harry concluded.

"I don't think there are any lions or tigers or elephants in America," Lily Luna said dubiously.

"Just as well they're on safari for chupacabras then. Lily's spending time with her family in Surrey, the McKinnons, Frank and Mary are also having family time wherever they live. Dolores, er your Aunt Hermione, is at work all the time at the Ministry, and Gilderoy, your Uncle Ron, has gone with his 'parents' on a trip to Tibet to visit Shambhala. Seems Mr Lockhart inherited his love of adventuring from them. The other Marauders are all spending the vacation at Potter Manor with Fleamont, Euphemia, Charlus, Dorea and the Tonkses."

"Why aren't you with them?"

Harry grimaced. "That probably wouldn't be for the best. Things are … strained between James and I, to say the least. I think I'm okay with the other two, Sirius at least is treating me the same as usual, but it would probably put a crimp on their Christmas having me underfoot. I'd be a constant reminder to James about Lily."

She winced. "Yeah, I can imagine that'd be pretty awkward."

"So what brings you here today?"

"No reason really – I'm still trying to get the hang of the calibrations. So far, we've been bouncing around all over the place; we still hit the correct year, but we keep arriving out of order from your point of view, as you've probably noticed."

"I may have," he replied blandly.

Apolline quirked an eyebrow. "Calibrations for what?"

"Nothing," Harry said hastily, "just a Science project she's working on with Pandora. Right, Elle?"

But Lily Luna had stopped paying attention. Her eyes had fixed onto the other side of the road, at the entrance of Knockturn Alley. Where a very familiar-looking redhead had just darted into. "Déjà vu," she murmured to herself.

Harry had followed the direction of her gaze and seen her doppelgänger as well. A flash of memory came to him. ' _My first visit to this time ... He came right out of the blue, saved me from a couple of glibters in Knockturn Alley … then told me about the time travel and ending up in the wrong body and everything …'_

"Borgin & Burkes?" he asked.

"Yes, go!" ordered Lily Luna. "I'll keep Apolline company."

He gave a brief nod, and an apologetic glance at the Frenchwoman, before racing off into Knockturn Alley in hot pursuit.

"Explain," demanded the Veela, hands on hips.

"Sure," she grinned. "Peter may be diffident about telling you, but I already know that you and he will spend a long, long, loooong time together, so there's no point hiding it from you!"

"'Iding what? And 'ow do you know what weel come to pass between us in ze future?"

"Because I'm from there," Lily Luna stated matter-of-factly.

"I … see … is zat why you are wearing ze school uniform during ze 'olidays?" was all that Apolline could manage in her shocked state.

The other girl nodded. "That's right. I never know exactly which location or at what point in time I'm going to end up, so I need to be able to blend in wherever. Luckily for me, Hogwarts hasn't updated its dress code since the 18th century, so I can just use my real school uniform and nobody can tell the difference!" Grabbing Apolline's arm, she steered the stunned girl into Florean's. "Come on, we can share an icecream and I'll tell you all about it while Peter's sorting out those reprobates who are stupidly trying to menace my Past-Self." She shook her head. "I wonder how many months in St Mungos they ended up staying?"

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"Everything okay?" Lily Luna asked as a somewhat battered and bruised Harry joined them at their table.

"Copacetic," Harry said cheerfully. "She's on her way, and knows how to find me at Hogwarts in future."

"Bon," Apolline stated in satisfaction. "I always knew you were a noble chévalier, but I 'ad no idea you spent so much time rescuing ze damsels in distress."

Harry shrugged. "It keeps seeming to happen to me, for some reason." He nabbed the cherry from the top of their sundae. "Aha! Looks like I get the cherry this time!" He ate it with excessive pleasure.

"I am glad you are enjoying it, I foresee you will be 'aving a lot of cherries in ze future," Apolline said slyly.

"What do you mean?" asked Harry, completely oblivious.

"You weel find out, I am sure," she smirked.

"Okaaaay … what are you writing?"

Lily Luna was busily jotting down notes onto a long scroll. She pulled out her wand and cast the Tempus spell, then jotted down the time and date. "It's important you keep impeccable records of all your jaunts, or else you'll collapse into a whirlpool of confusion. That's what happened to Al and Scorpius."

"Fair enough. Let's see: aside from your visit to Diagon today – both times – we met up to take care of the Lestranges in the greenhouse, and met in Pandora's lab for our first pow-wow … oh, and there was one other time. I think you winked at me as we walked down a corridor after the Welcoming Feast."

"I did? What else happened?"

"Uh, that was it; we both kept going our own ways."

"I very much doubt I went to all the trouble to go to a different timeline just to walk down Hogwarts corridors and flirt with you!" she said crossly. "I'll mark it down as a 'TBA'."

"You know, I've been wondering," Harry mused to the redhead who had finished her scribbling, stowed her scroll, stuck her quill behind her ear, and was now polishing off the last of the vanilla scoop, "how are you and Al and Scorpius able to keep finding me in this time period? I mean, the timeline is a big place; and so is Hogwarts and the rest of the British wizarding world. Yet you and your confederates have been pretty spot on so far."

"Because of this," she brandished his old holly and phoenix feather wand in triumph.

Harry and Apolline shared a look.

"I don't get it," he confessed.

Lily Luna lowered her voice and leaned forward. "You know how The Device has a bunch of weird cordlike things hanging from the bottom?" she whispered, not willing to risk taking it out in public to show what she meant.

"Yes." He didn't, but pretended to for the sake of getting to the point.

"We discovered they're leads for attachments. You can link other magical devices to it, and use them to direct The Device more precisely as to where and when you want it to take you. We started out using this," she reached into her pocket and pulled out a very familiar device.

"The Deluminator," Harry said, remembering the device that had led Ron back to him and Hermione after their fallout during the Great Horcrux Hunt of '98.

"Yep. Dad always kept it as a memento. It was mounted above our fireplace with his other trophies, like his old wand from the war that he swore he'd never use again."

"Let me guess – you nicked them."

"Got it in one," she nodded shamelessly. "The Deluminator still had Dad's blood in it, so we figured if we attached it to the Device, and then set it to go back to the first time you arrived in Hogwarts, we couldn't go wrong."

"So what happened?"

"It went wrong," she replied laconically. "Instead of taking us to the 1990's it took us to the 1970's."

"Because I'd hurled myself back in time, so my first arrival at Hogwarts was at a point 20 years earlier than when I would've arrived in my ordinary first year, in 1991," Harry realised.

"A minor technicality," she waved it away dismissively. "A tiny blip in the vastness of time and space, something so insignificant and perfectly understandable that it's not worth mentioning ever again."

"If you say so."

She nodded. "I do. As I was saying, the turner kept going all wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey and we couldn't seem to end up arriving in linear sequence, from your point of view."

"Another minor technicality or tiny blip?" he asked dryly.

"Hush, you. I've thought about it a lot, and the only thing I can think of is it's because you're in a different body. Your blood is different – not completely different for some reason, but different enough to the Deluminator's that it keeps throwing off our accuracy. So we then tried it with Dad's old wand, and that worked a lot better." She scrutinised him with narrow eyes. "Your magic's a lot closer to the original than your blood is, it seems."

"Well, we can feex zat!" declared Apolline, taking the Deluminator from the tabletop. "Give me your 'and, Pierre," she commanded.

"Uh, why?" he asked suspiciously.

She did not deign to reply, merely held out her wand and gave him an imperious glare. Finally he reached out, grumbling to himself about being a science experiment for every woman he met. With a quick swish of her wand, and a startled yelp from Harry, the device gave a brief flash and whirr, and then settled into silence once more.

"What did you do?" whined Harry, nursing his stinging hand tenderly.

"I extracted some of your blood and used a switching spell to replace it with ze blood from inside zis device, which I zen banished," Apolline explained smugly. She handed the Deluminator back to Lily Luna. "Zere you go: I zink you weel find zat your device eez now far more accurate and reliable in finding our Pierre back."

"Thanks Apolline, that's brilliant!" cheered Lily Luna.

"Naturellement," Apolline preened.

"Why aren't we being flagged with owls for underage magic?" the boy wondered, looking around.

"Oh Pierre," his would-be bride gave him a pitying look. "You do not zink zat you are ze only student who 'as obtained a wand without ze Trace, non?"

"Well, I mean …"

"Boys," sighed Lily Luna, fondling her untraceable holly and phoenix feather wand lovingly. "What can you do with them?"

Apolline nodded sagely.

"I hate you both," Harry grumbled in annoyance. Then, changing the subject, "You know, I still don't know why you three bothered coming to the past to find me in the first place," Harry mused. "You said something about there being a giant fight in the DoM between my counterpart and his Aurors, and all the dark families, right? And that it somehow revived or resurrected Voldemort? You're going to have to explain that, because it makes no sense to me. I'm pretty sure I killed him. I'm _certain_ I killed him! Or, more accurately, I'm certain he hit himself with his own Killing Curse that refracted from our _priori incantatem_."

"Zat would seem to do ze trick; I 'ave not 'eard of any living zing zat 'as survived contact with zat curse. Especially when cast by a Dark Lord."

"Normally that would be right," Lily Luna sighed, subtly casting a privacy charm around their table, "but Harry – Peter, and Voldemort are special cases. The very short cliffs notes version is, his mother inscribed herself and him with some unknown rune magic that was embedded into their bloodline, like what Slytherin did with his Parselmouth magical affinity. The Unspeakables are still trying to figure it out, from what Aunt Hermione told me. Lily Evans gave her life to save her son's when the Dark Lord came knocking, the sacrifice powered some sort of powerful countercharm to the AK, and it blew Voldie away. But Voldie unwittingly embedded a bit of his own soul in Peter's head, which anchored his soul to this world and prevented him from dying. Later on, he used Peter's blood in a necromantic ritual to regain his body. So the two of them then shared the bloodline _and_ a soul connection. The Dark Lord hit my father with another AK a while afterwards, which inadvertently killed his own shard of soul. But because Voldie still had the bloodline in him, he inadvertently acted as an anchor for Dad, so Dad didn't die either."

Apolline looked appalled. "Such dark magics," she whispered.

"But then he got hit with his own AK!" Harry protested. "And he didn't have any more soul shards or other you-know-whats to anchor him to this world. Ergo he died."

But Lily Luna shook her head. "No, Peter, he did have another anchor." She gave him a significant look.

Suddenly it hit him, and he paled. "No."

"Yes," she insisted. "You got hit with an AK, and while it did destroy _his_ soul anchor, _you_ certainly didn't have any soul anchors to keep you clamped to the earth. By all rights, you _should_ have died, it doesn't matter whether you were a soul anchor or not. Another bit of soul in a living thing can't just 'take one for the team' and die so that the primary soul can live. Just like when Neville cut off Nagini's head: Voldemort's soul anchor within _her_ didn't prevent her from dying. The death of the living soul container automatically leads to the death of the soul fragment, a two-for-one sort of thing. Again, just like Nagini: she and the fragment both died at the same time. There's no vengeful shade of that snake floating around trying to regain its body. So why didn't you die, or Dad?"

"Ze blood; ze blood anchored zem to each other," said Apolline sickly.

"' _Neither shall live while the other survives_ ' the Prophecy said … conversely, neither shall die when the other dies. Your primary souls and magical cores anchored each other to this world, by means of the blood and enchantments Lily Evans embedded into it. As long as you share the same blood, the two of you could hurl AKs (or any other death magic) at each other all day long, and all it would do is knock you down for a few minutes. Frankly, you'd do more damage to each other with muggle fisticuffs. And if one of you got your head chopped off, or drowned, or fell into a sawmill or whatever, the other one would anchor you, turning you into a restless shade that could potentially regain a body once more. The only way to end the cycle would be for both to die simultaneously. And since that didn't happen …"

"Voldemort was still alive after the Battle of Hogwarts," Harry whispered in horror.

Lily Luna nodded morosely.

"But, but he _was_ dead! Didn't move, didn't get back up!"

"And then what happened?"

Harry's face scrunched, trying to remember what was going on with the body in those confused hours after the Battle. "The Ministry dragged his corpse off. To make sure he was truly gone, they said."

"That's right. Or to put it in another, more accurate way, the Unspeakables got their claws into him. To vivisect and rebuild and do whatever else it is that lot do to further their research. According to Aunt Hermione, Voldemort's soul was in such a fragile state from him breaking it into so many pieces, pieces that were now destroyed, that it took him a good dozen years to gradually and painstakingly pull the remaining fragments of himself back together, so to speak. He was Humpty Dumpty though; he'd never be what he once was, but eventually he _was_ able to stabilise his soul as much as it could be. Reintegrate it with his body, so he could feel and move around and so forth. At some point, about the time Al and I were in our early years at Hogwarts, he was a conscious being again."

"Sweet Merlin's snorkacks," Harry breathed.

"Yep, and when he woke up, he found himself in a storeroom in the DoM – only the biggest treasure-vault of rare, obscure and powerful magical artefacts and research! What a birthday present! He was still trapped in there by the wards, the Unspeakables weren't stupid enough to allow him to leave, consciously or unconsciously, so he was stuck in that same body and couldn't abandon it and float away back to Albania or wherever. Nor could he physically break out. But he was able to read, find a workable wand and other magical equipment, and otherwise bide his time. Then, when Delphini and her dark buddies were tearing the place apart, the firefight with the Aurors was so devastating to the building …"

"… zat zey broke ze wards," Apolline finished. "Freeing 'im to go on a rampage."

"And then he ran into Dad again, and they fought once more."

"So what happened?" Harry was on the edge of his seat.

"Did you or your 'Future-Harry' counterpart or whatever ever go into the DoM in your fifth year to get a prophecy, and end up fighting off the Death Eaters?"

He nodded.

"Did you disturb a room full of time turners?"

"Yeah, someone blew it up, if I remember rightly. Everything in the room got caught up in some time vortex, an endless cycle of smashing and repairing."

"Yes, it created an endless loop, repeating a short series of events over and over again," Lily Luna confirmed. "The Unspeakables had to seal off the entire room and hallway to prevent anything else getting sucked into it, in _our_ world's past, at least."

Harry said, "I think something similar was done in mine, but I can't remember."

"So what does zis 'ave to do with anything?"

"While fighting along the length and breadth of the DoM, my Dad," and here her voice hitched, "and Voldemort didn't notice where they were heading. They both blew past the barriers, the fight spilled into the Time Room, and well …

"Non! Zey were sucked into zis time vortex?" Apolline demanded in alarm.

Lily Luna looked down at the floor miserably.

"And zey were both caught in a cycle of fighting each other over and over again endlessly," the Veela finished.

"How long for?" Harry asked, appalled.

"Well, the Unspeakables have been working like mad on getting you out, but you know, better to act without haste than repent at leisure and all that…"

"How long?"

"Well, you two have been in there for about two years now."

"Wait, you mean they still haven't dug me out of there?"

"They're not even sure if that's possible without causing the whole timestream to collapse – or at least collapse the Ministry building and half of London," she replied defensively.

Harry sighed. "Stuck forever fighting Voldemort over and over again, neither one ever achieving victory or closure. Eternal stalemate. If that isn't a metaphor for my whole existence, nothing is."

" _'_ _Neither can live while ze other survives'_? Zat's certainly one way to achieve zat Prophecy."

"Thanks, you're really helping," said Harry sarcastically.

"It's not all bad," Lily Luna tried to soothe him.

"Not all bad?! Name me one benefit," he snapped.

"You've stopped Voldemort from rampaging through the wizarding world yet again; think about all the people whose lives that's spared. Plus, there's the educational value."

He stared blankly.

Lily Luna nodded. "You've not only provided the Unspeakables with loads of data about time paradoxes, according to Aunt Hermione, but also for the Hogwarts students.

"Hogwarts students?" he asked in a daze.

"Yes, Hogwarts started bringing in groups of students to observe the battle. It became a standard excursion for History of Magic for all years: they can see, in the flesh before their own eyes, the two main protagonists of the second blood war duke it out. It really makes history come alive! My own paper was on your use of _Expelliarmus_ as a means of deflecting Unforgiveables," she added shyly.

"Wait a minute, if my Future-Self's been caught in an unbreakable time loop for two years, how on earth do you have four siblings who are infants? Did Ginny remarry or something?"

The girl looked distinctly uncomfortable, "Well, I don't know all the details, but Mum used a medical spell on you years ago, right before you, Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione went on that Horcrux Hunt. It, uh, extracted a 'sample' from you which was put under a stasis charm and preserved. You know, in case you never came back, then at least there'd be a chance for a part of you to live on ..." She squirmed in discomfort. "Apparently there are some medical spells that are used to, _relocate_ the sample into a womb; it's a variation of the charms mediwitches use to transport potions directly into unconscious or comatose patients' stomachs."

"She used magical artificial insemination to have quadruplets while I – he, was stuck in a time loop?!" This was getting more and more bizarre by the second.

"You have to understand," Lily Luna defended, "that Mum was, well, a bit of wreck after what happened to you ... After months passed and the Unspeakables continued to be stumped, she kinda became obsessed with continuing the Potter line. Decided seven was the most auspicious number of Potters for the next generation; seeing as how she was from a crop of seven herself or something … I don't really know, I can't understand adults! Half the time what they do makes not a lick of sense!" she huffed a loose strand of crimson out of her eyes.

The group sat in silence to ponder the day's revelations.

"At least," Harry offered at last, "we don't have to worry about the blood anchors in this dimension. We don't share the same blood at all – and it's darn well going to stay that way!"

"I don't think you have anything to worry about on that account. Unless Mrs Pettigrew willingly died to shield you after performing some illegal and unknown blood magic."

"I doubt it – she's a charwoman in America, and none too fond of Peter, from what I can gather. "I'm here at Hogwarts on a bursary."

"On the other hand, it also means that if Voldemort or one of his Gourmands of the Grave hits you with a deadly curse or drops a cement-mixer on you, you'd be dead as a dormouse – eh, sorry."

"That's fine," he waved it off. "So then let me guess, Al and Scorpius' little jaunts into the past with The Device gave you three the idea to use it to get your dad out of his time prison."

She nodded. "Yes, I figured that if it's what got us all into this mess, it could darn well get us out of it too."

"So why come all the way back to the first time I arrived at Hogwarts? Surely it would've been better to just go back to before Delphini was sprung from her holding cell?"

Lily Luna shook her head firmly. "No no no, that's exactly the sort of brute-force approach that Al and Scorpius were so fond of using; and look what sort of catastrophes that caused! No, I've come to the conclusion that, when trying to change the past, you need a light touch. Start from the beginning, help Dad's Past-Self right from the get-go to prevent all the disasters that came, bit by bit. Change by minute change. Then, hopefully, the cumulative effect of all those little differences would be: no dead Cedric, no resurrection of Voldie, no using his-your blood, no Death Eaters running free, no war, no muggle concentration camps, the works!"

"That's … extremely ambitious," Harry managed.

"I know," she preened, "Al and Scorpius are so myopic about the scope of potential benefits achievable from time travel done properly. That's why they came to me in the end! The Sorting Hat said I'd be great in Slytherin and wanted to put me there. But after living through all of Al's angsting after _he_ ended up in the House of Snakes, I made it put me in Gryffindor with James. Who needs that sort of hassle?"

Harry turned it all over and over in his mind. "Very well; I will aid you in your quest," he said grandly.

"You will?"

"Yes. I would help anyway – I promised myself I'd do whatever it took to end the Death Eater menace – but you three _did_ try to give Cedric back his life, the least I can do to repay you is help you with this. Could you make sure to thank Al and Scorpius for me next time you see them? Even if they didn't succeed, at least they gave it their best shot. In my book, that counts for a lot."

She smiled. "l'll tell them; even though you're not Dad, I think they'll appreciate it."

"I need to speak to Hermione about all this. Come on, we've sat here and moped long enough! Let's go visit Aunt Hermione at her office; she's been working too hard lately, and it's about time she met the two of you."

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Lord Jean-Sébastien de la Roche-Jagu stormed into the Leaky Cauldron, a baker's dozen of burly French Aurors backing him up, ready to give this Peter Pettigrew scum a piece of his mind for his abysmal treatment of his innocent and pure only child. Imagine treating a Delacour in such a fashion? International kidnapping for the purposes of enslavement as a schoolboy's pet? The very thought was enough to send him into a blind rage!

The look of hope in the boy in question's eyes when he saw the murderous cohort, and the way he immediately made a beeline towards them across the room, gave him pause. The agitated way he bit his lower lip and wrung his hand convinced the French Lord to hear him out before dragging him to the Bastille. For a few seconds, at least.

"You must be Lord Delacour, I'm Peter Pettigrew. I'm so glad you're here!"

"Eez zere something you would like to speak to me about?" Jean-Sébastien growled, ill-concealed menace in his voice.

"It's Apolline," Harry agreed.

"What is wrong with Apolline?!" the man demanded. The Aurors bristled and readied their wands.

"Nothing," Harry said quickly, "but she's decided to stay with me over the Christmas Break as my pet."

"Yes," Jean-Sébastien hissed coldly, "I 'ave 'eard about zat."

"So she moved into my room here at the Leaky Cauldron and is insisting we share a bed and that I take her to my gym training, and ghostbusting and Occlumency and anatomy classes and everything! I tried to tell her that her family probably wants her to spend the holidays with them in France, but she just pouted and asked when I'd decided I didn't want her anymore." The words came out in a rushed tumble.

"And of course you broke immediately and apologised, did you not?" Jean-Sébastien couldn't help himself, and started chuckling. His Aurors looked back and forth between their boss and this English kid, getting more confused by the moment. "Apolline learned zat trick when she was four years old. I believe 'er Maman taught it to 'er; and it has been one of ze banes of my existence ever since."

"Perfectly understandable, sir," the boy said earnestly.

"Take me to my daughter, Mr Pettigrew."

"One more question, if I may?"

"Yes?"

"Is there really such thing as a Veela mating bond?"

The man sighed. "We shall discuss zese things later, Mr Pettigrew. Now let us go to my daughter."

Harry acquiesced and led the contingent up the stairs and to his board. It was a bit of a squeeze trying to fit all 16 of them into the one-person bedroom, but eventually they managed. Jean-Sébastien dragged his protesting daughter into the bathroom and slammed the door. What followed was a long, and increasingly loud argument in French. The Aurors pretended they couldn't hear what was being said, and Harry had no idea what was being said. He made do with reading through another one of Dirk's necromancy tomes. A number of the Frenchmen eyed the books queasily, but said nothing. Eventually, after parent and child had managed to scream themselves hoarse, the door opened and a perfectly composed pair exited, not a hair or eyelash out of place, to face the assembled mass.

"I do believe we 'ave reached an understanding," Jean-Sébastien said calmly.

Apolline nodded serenely. "I weel go back to France for ze 'olidays, and Pierre weel accompany me."

"Wha … I mean, I'm very flattered, but I have a lot of things I need to do in London for the next couple of weeks. Errands, House business, training, that sort of thing …" Harry said nervously. Apolline frowned.

"I understand you must be a very busy man, with all your responsibilities," Jean-Sébastien interjected before another argument could break out. "I will arrange for you to 'ave a portkey zat will bring you to our 'ome; once you 'ave finished your business, per'aps you will visit us?"

"Sure, that sounds fine," Harry replied cautiously.

"Very good; Jean-Baptiste, fetch us some portkeys!" Father and daughter casually strolled out of the room hand in hand.

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.

Now that he had regained his blissful solitude once more, Harry lay back on his bed in the Leaky Cauldron and pondered.

 _Seeing Apolline and Lily Luna like that makes me wonder if there are any other loose ends that I've forgotten about?_

 _Nothing I can think of offhand, the Otter thought._

 _Prek! suggested the Owl._

 _You're right! Harry realised. I never got around to 'thanking' the Dursleys for all their 'hard work' and 'sacrifice' in raising me; not to mention ensuring that they can never inflict themselves on any other living thing again! You're a genius!_

 _Prek! barked the Owl modestly._

He thought about it for a bit. In this time, Petunia would be in her early 20's, Vernon would be in his late 20's, and Marge would be in her late 30's.

 _Let's do this progressively, the Otter said. Start from least to greatest of our foes, Margie to Petunia to Vernon; that way we can learn from any mistakes._

 _And gain inspiration from whatever makes them suffer the most! added the Grim._

As far as he remembered, in the mid-1970's Marge would still be married to some rich toff whose great wealth she got her claws into in the divorce settlement. After which she spent all her time mooning over that neighbour of hers who looked after her dogs when she was out of town and then taking her frustrations out on Harry because the old coot was smart enough not to be interested.

 _Colonel Fubster (ret.), you are clearly a half-way sensitive and intelligent human being, to not touch that bitter crone with an 11 ½ foot barge pole, sir, the Grim saluted him._

 _Alright, I've got a few days with a bunch of free time set aside. It's time to commence Project Revenge-On-This-Version-Of-The-Dursleys-Even-Though-They-Haven't-Done-Anything-To-Me-But-I'm-Still-Going-To-Make-Sure-That-They-Can't-Screw-Over-Any-Other-Child's-Life!_

With that, he strode confidently out to Diagon Alley's apparition point and vanished.

He ended up having to pay a visit to the muggle telephone booth outside of the Leaky Cauldron to thumb through the heavy phonebook. It took him a while to remember where she lived; at first he could only remember that it was somewhere in the countryside. Some place large enough for her to breed those 12 bulldogs. Eventually inspiration struck and he remember the name of her husband-that-was: Arlington Spencer. _Spencer, just like Princess Di's family. Nooow it's all coming back to me._

Ah! There it was in the listings! Arlington Charles Spencer and Marjorie Eileen Spencer (née Dursley), Lower Bitchfield, Lincolnshire. _How appropriate._

"Kreacher!" The surly elf appeared. "Tell me Kreacher, how would you feel about joining me on my little outing today?"

"Kreacher has better things to do with his time, like polishing heads of ancestors on Black family wall, than slumming with mudbloods with his filthy blood-traitor master," the gnarled elf growled sourly.

"Is that so?" Harry blinked innocently. "I was going to destroy a few muggles' lives, but if you'd rather polish heads, then –"

"Master is going to destroy muggles?" Kreacher cocked his head and bugged out his eyes in astonishment. Then narrowed them suspiciously. "This is trick, dirty trick by dirty rat to get Kreacher's hopes up."

"Cross my heart. Some muggles treated me badly, and so now I'm going to wreak horrific vengeance onto them as recompense," Harry said matter-of-factly.

Kreacher started bouncing up and down on the spot (so much as his decrepit bones would allow him) in a way that Harry had only ever seen done by Dobby. "Oh master, Kreacher will come! Kreacher will help filthy master!"

"I don't know," he said dubiously. "You did call me a filthy master, and a dirty rat, and a blood-traitor. Mabye you don't deserve a reward like this …"

"Kreacher will be good! Kreacher will be good, he promises! Good house elf will follow all of master's orders and not insult good master!"

"Alright, Kreacher, I'll give you a chance. Don't make me regret it, or you shan't be coming along on any other journeys of delicious revenge …"

"Thankyou kind master! Master Black is sooo deliciously evil! Kreacher misjudged good master!"

"Then let us be on our path: is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it's Lord Black and Kreacher! Up, up and away!"

And with that, the two occupants of the telephone booth disappeared, onward to adventure.

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"What are you doing out all alone at this time of night?"

Harry jumped at the voice behind him. "Nothing, Officer," he said innocently.

"You're right in the middle of nowhere." The Officer surveyed the landscape. Nothing but fields surrounded the lonely road in all directions. The only signs of life were himself, his squad car and this thin, frail urchin walking down the side of the road. And a couple of crows. "What's your name?"

"I don't think I should say," Harry bit his lower lip.

"Why aren't you at home?" The policeman questioned. "You can't be more than five or six years old."

"I've just been thrown out. Mrs Spencer said that I was lucky that she took in a worthless brat like me in the first place and that the law wouldn't do anything to help me."

"She did, did she?" The policeman frowned. "Where is this Mrs Spencer?"

"I don't want to be any trouble," Harry hid his smirk. "I'll just go live in one of these fields, Mrs Spencer said that houses are too good to be sullied by my presence."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, Officer. That's why she has me living in one of the outdoor kennels. Until I got kicked out, that is."

"Why don't you come with me," the policeman fought hard to keep all signs of rage off his face, "and I'll get you some food."

"I already ate two days ago, sir," Harry replied politely. "So it would be a waste to feed me until tomorrow."

"Let me worry about that," the Officer replied kindly. "You just worry about getting enough to eat."

The Officer lifted Harry up and placed him in the passenger seat of his squad car. "You and I are going to take a ride to the station."

"Can we turn on the siren?" Harry's eyes lit up, it was something he had always wanted to do.

"If you want," the Officer nodded. "Now why don't you tell me about this Mrs Spencer?"

"She's really big," Harry began, "and her face turns purple when she's angry at me."

"Does she get angry at you often?" the Officer asked as he pulled away from the curb.

"Not very often," Harry shook his head. "Only a few times a day."

"I see . . . does," the Officer took a breath. "Does she ever hit you?"

"I'm not supposed to say," Harry allowed his voice to fall to a whisper. "Mrs Spencer will get angry."

"If you tell me," the Officer gave a warm smile. "I'll show you which button turns the siren on."

"Sometimes," Harry nodded slowly. "But only because she needs to beat 'it' out of me."

"Beat what out of you?" His grip on the wheel tightened.

"I don't know," Harry managed to force out a tear. "But it must be very bad."

"Hit this button here," the Officer indicated a button. "It'll turn on the lights and siren."

"Okay," Harry hit the button and was rewarded by a loud whine and flashing lights. "Are you going to hit me now?"

"Why would I hit you?" The Officer knew that he wasn't going to like the answer.

"Because Mrs Spencer says that nothing good can happen to a bad egg like me without a good beating afterwards," Harry forced himself to shiver. "She said that it'll keep me from getting my hopes up."

"Well, I'm not going to hit you for any reason." The Officer replied firmly, "I forgot to mention but my name is Officer Patrick O'Malley. Why don't you tell me your name?"

"Mrs Spencer usually calls me 'boy' or 'you'," Harry replied. "But my name is Harry."

"Well Harry," the car pulled into a parking space at the station. "We're at the Police Station, why don't we go in and I'll give you that food I promised you."

"Okay," Harry nodded.

Officer O'Malley took Harry into the station house and set him at a desk with a box of doughnuts and a large cup of tea.

"I have to go talk to some people so I won't be here for a little while," the Officer made sure to give a wide grin. "But I'll be back, and when I come back I want to see that you've eaten as many of these doughnuts as you can. Okay, Harry?"

"Okay, Officer O'Malley," Harry nodded.

As soon as he was alone, Harry hissed, "Kreacher!" The elf appeared. "I've got," he consulted his watch, "20 more minutes until the Polyjuice wears off. Do you have the spare vial?"

Kreacher passed Harry the spare vial of the disgusting potion, which Harry stowed away in one of his shoes.

"Where did you get the hairs from?"

"From filthy muggle child in grungy Irish flophouse," Kreacher replied proudly. Making a child bald hardly counted when it came to committing evil deeds on muggles, but it would have to do for a start. He quickly vanished as a female police officer walked into the room.

Harry looked up from the newspaper he pretended to read. "Hi."

"Do you like looking at the newspaper?" She knelt beside Harry's chair and shot him a warm grin.

"I'm sorry," Harry flinched. "I know I'm not supposed to, I'm sorry."

"No one is angry," the woman's voice was soft and soothing. "It's okay to look at the newspaper if you want to."

"Really?" Harry figured that he was overacting a bit, but why mess with what seemed to be working?

"Really," she nodded. "It's very interesting isn't it?"

"Yes," Harry nodded. "But I can't read it yet, just some of the words."

"That's very good," the woman smiled. "I'm Sergeant Samantha, I'm a friend of Officer Patrick."

"I'm Harry Potter," Harry smiled. "Pleased to meet you."

"Those clothes don't look very comfortable," the woman shook her head. "For one thing, they're too big for you."

"I don't have anything else," Harry allowed his shoulders to drop. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Sergeant Samantha patted him on the shoulder. "Would you like some new clothes?"

"Okay," Harry nodded. "But are you sure you want to waste the money?"

"It's not a waste to get you new clothes, Harry," she assured him. "In fact, I can't think of a better way to spend department funds."

"If you're sure," Harry fought the urge to laugh. "But Mrs Spencer says that I should be happy to get Dudley's old things, she says that a wastrel like me should be happy for what I get."

"I disagree." She had to force herself not to frown, child neglect cases always got to her. "I'll have some new clothes for you in just a second."

The policewoman left the room and returned a few minutes later carrying a box of clothing, "why don't you change out of those clothes and into these ones?"

"Will you wait outside?" Harry turned red. "I don't want to do it with you watching me."

"I'll be right outside if you need me," the policewoman agreed. "Just knock on the door."

"Ok," Harry gave struggled pitifully with his shirt for a few moments before conceding defeat. In retrospect, asking Kreacher to give him a few whacks with that wooden beam to add some extra realism hadn't been one of his better ideas. The elf had taken to his task with far too much gusto. Walking toward the door with a sigh, Harry knocked.

"Yes?" Sergeant Samantha knelt down and smiled.

"I can't get my shirt off," Harry admitted. "Could you help me, but only with that?

"Sure I can," the policewoman winced she saw the bruises and cuts that covered the boy's chest and back. "Harry, could you tell me how all this happened?"

"I'm not supposed to say," Harry frowned.

"That's okay," Sergeant Samantha smiled. "But I'm going to have to call my friend in to look at all this, he's a paramedic and he'll help you."

"Okay," Harry nodded.

The woman stepped outside the door for a moment and called in a Paramedic. "Harry, this is my friend Nigel. He's a paramedic, that means that he rides around in an ambulance."

"Hello, Harry," Nigel smiled.

"Hello Nigel," Harry smiled back.

The man spent several minutes checking over and bandaging Harry's injuries before he would allow Harry to resume changing. Eventually, his calm and patient approach coaxed Harry into describing how he'd received the injuries.

"Mrs Spencer says she won't have any of this namby-pamby, wishy-washy nonsense about not hitting people who deserve it," Harry admitted reluctantly. "Mrs Spencer says a good thrashing is what's needed in 99 cases out of 100. Especially for a good-for-nothing scrounger like me, who's only a burden on other people."

"Have you been 'thrashed' often?" Nigel asked, masking his dread.

"No, not often. Only a few times a week. Mrs Spencer says that if I can speak of beatings in such a casual way, she clearly isn't hitting me hard enough."

"Is that a fact?" he asked slowly.

Harry shrugged. "She says the use of extreme force is necessary in my case. I don't know what that means though."

"Thanks for being so patient, Harry," Nigel smiled.

"You won't tell anyone what I told you, right?" Harry asked anxiously. "Otherwise Mrs Spencer will find out."

"Promise. Now Sergeant Samantha and I will give you some privacy so that you can get back to changing."

"I do have to ask one thing before I go," Sergeant Samantha smiled. "What's your address?"

"Why?" Harry's eyes narrowed.

"So we can drop off your old clothes," Sergeant Samantha answered with a straight face.

"Oh," Harry couldn't believe that they expected him to fall for such a lame trick. "It's the Spencer residence, Lower Bitchfield, Lincolnshire. I don't know the number."

"You walked all the way here from Bitchfield?" Nigel asked incredulously. The policewoman gave him a jab with her elbow to silence him.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No, you've done nothing wrong. Thank you, Harry," Sergeant Samantha smiled. "You've been a lot of help."

Sergeant Samantha took Nigel by the arm and the two of them stepped out into the hallway.

"Well?" She forced herself to keep her voice down to keep the boy from overhearing.

"I found signs consistent with neglect and abuse," Nigel confirmed.

"That's all I needed to hear," Sergeant Samantha gave a cold smile. "O'Malley, go talk to the Spencers of Bitchfield."

"On it," the Officer nodded. "I have a feeling that these people might resist arrest so ..."

"Be sure to bring a lot of back up," the policewoman nodded. "I think you're right about resisting arrest."

Harry asked to go to the bathroom, and as soon as he was left alone, had Kreacher bring him the note he had prepared earlier. Leaving it on the sink counter, Harry opened up one of the windows and placed a bin under it to make it look as if that was his means of egress. Then he disapparated to his next destination.

Sergeant Samantha would later discover the note which explained, in childish scrawl, that he was very grateful for all the kind Officers' help, but he had to flee as he was sure Mrs Spencer would find him here. The only way to escape from her anger was to go far, far away as fast as he could.

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Harry walked up to the Police Station several counties over. He now wore the face of a loner boy living in an orphanage Calais. He checked his watch. The Officers would no doubt be finding his letter about now. They'd probably start the search for 'Harry' shortly. He felt pretty guilty about sending them on a wild goose chase, especially after they'd been so kind to him and that all their efforts were motivated by the desire to help and protect abused and neglected children. He decided he'd have Goldenrod transfer a generous private donation to each of the police stations to support their hard work.

"Hello, sir," he said, as he approached the front desk.

"Hello, lad," the Desk Sergeant smiled. "What can I do for you?"

"Mrs Spencer told me to go out and give a group of lonely men a good time for some money," Harry frowned. "And she said to avoid the stupid pigs because they'd just ruin everything."

"Really?" The policeman fought to remain calm. "Did she say anything else?"

"No sir," Harry shook his head. "But I lost the address and I can't find the lonely men so I decided to come here to ask you, they told us in school that you can always trust a policeman because they're smart and good and I thought you could also protect me from the nasty pigs."

"Why don't you have a seat, lad," the policeman gave a warm smile, "and have a cup of tea. What did you say your name was again?"

"Dudley Doright, sir."

The Desk Sergeant frowned. "Think that's funny, do you?"

Harry blinked in confusion. "What do you mean, sir?"

"Why don't you give me your real name, boy?" he growled.

"But that _is_ my real name … at least that's what I've always been told."

"You've been told?"

"Well, sir, I don't have any parents, so all I have to go on is what Mrs Spencer told me."

"And what did Mrs Spencer tell you?" The Officer was starting to get a sinking feeling that this kid wasn't being smart with him.

"That my parents were a pair of good-for-nothing wastrels who died in a car accident because they were drunk. And on drugs. And that nobody else in the world cares whether I live or die and that in the goodness of her heart she took me in and that if she hadn't I'd be living at St Brutus' Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys. And that they had bad blood and that it's in me too. And that the bad blood will out, but I don't know what that means. And … and that's all I know. If I ask any more questions about it, she whacks my shins with her walking stick."

"And Mrs Spencer told you your name was Dudley Doright?"

"Yes sir, though she usually calls me 'boy' or 'freak'."

"I see. And does anyone else live with you?"

"Yes sir. There's another boy who shares the kennel with me, his name's Harry Potter."

"Did you say _kennel_? What do you mean by that?" The Officer was gripping his pen very tightly. Harry could see the knuckles turning white.

"Well sir, Mrs Spencer breeds bulldogs, you see. Usually 12 at a time. And Harry and l live in the one of the outside kennels," Harry hid his smirk. "Mrs Spencer said that houses are too good to be sullied by our presence."

"Is that so?"

"Yes sir. It's a lot of fun sometimes, it's like having your own play-fort all year around," Harry nodded guilelessly. "Except during winter. Then it gets really cold and it's hard to sleep. But only good boys get blankets, and Harry and I aren't good," he looked down at the floor sadly. "And there was that one time Ripper chased me up a tree and I was stuck there until midnight."

"Ripper?"

"Mrs Spencer's prize bulldog. I'm glad she sold him," the boy shivered. "He wasn't very nice."

"I … see …"

"Oh, and of course there's Mr Spencer," Harry added helpfully. "Though I've never met him. I've seen him sometimes walking around."

"Why haven't you met him?"

"Harry and I aren't allowed to talk to him or be seen by him. Mrs Spencer said if he ever caught wind that we were there he'd bring in the nasty pigs and that would ruin everything. And that would be very bad." He shivered. "Pigs frighten me." He then perked up. "But it's alright – Mrs Spencer says we won't have to worry about him ruining things soon."

"How's that, lad?" The Desk Sergeant was struggling mightily to keep the fury from his face.

"I don't know," Harry shrugged. "She just says that soon he'll be gone and we won't need to worry about him or the pigs ever again."

The Officer took a deep breath, and carefully placed his pen on the counter. "Why don't you come back here, Dudley. We'll get you something to eat while we check out a few things."

"That's alright sir, I had a box of dog biscuits for tea two days ago. So it'd be a waste to feed me again until tomorrow."

"Luckily we have plenty of food just sitting around back here. It'd be a waste if someone didn't finish it."

"Okay," Harry chirped, and followed the Sergeant.

Another trip to the bathroom and another note later (this one, written in different handwriting, apologised profusely to the nice Sergeant, but explained it would be best if he found the lonely men soon or else Mrs Spencer would be angry) and Harry and Kreacher were on their way.

"Did you take care of all the arrangements in Bitchfield?" Harry asked, as they entered the Leaky Cauldron.

"Yes, master."

"Where did you find all the drugs?"

"From leather-wearing beardy muggles down the street. They be having much of the white powder and blue pills."

"Excellent," Harry whispered sinisterly.

"Kreacher still wishes he could have ripped filthy muggle whale-woman's spine out and nailed it to her front door," the elf grizzled.

"But then she'd be dead," Harry explained patiently. "And then we wouldn't be able to carry out any more vengeance on her over the next few decades."

Kreacher opened his mouth, shut it again. He looked up at his master for the first time with the tiniest glimmer of respect.

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Three hours later, the Spencer estate in Lower Bitchfield, Lincolnshire resembled the London International Police Convention.

"Report!" demanded Sergeant Samantha.

"The two kids' stories check out," a grim-faced Officer O'Malley replied. "Two of the outdoor kennels show signs of long-term habitation. Also found evidence of people being handcuffed there in the past."

"What else?"

"The boys also discovered half a kilogram of cocaine and an 80-gram bag of old-school biker meth hidden under her bed. Forensics' initial estimate is both are of extremely high purity."

"My God. Just _what_ was she up to? What about him?" She pointed over to where a very confused Arlington Charles Spencer was sitting in the back of an ambulance being tested by Nigel the paramedic.

"Very mild case of arsenic poisoning. It was in his tea. Looks like she'd only just started up on this bit of her plan, luckily for him."

"Very," she agreed. "You find the rest of the arsenic?"

"We found a bottle of it in her private medicine chest. Enough to kill a pair of donkeys."

"Now all we have to do is find Harry Potter and Dudley Doright. Search turned up anything?"

O'Malley shook his head sadly. "Nothing yet. It's like they just up and disappeared into thin air. Hopefully if they see in the newspaper or on the telly that their tormentor's been arrested, they'll pluck up the courage to visit the police again."

"We can only hope."

A large, confused and extremely voluble Marjorie Eileen Spencer (née Dursley) of Lower Bitchfield, Lincolnshire, aka 'Marge the Barge' according to the her constables, was dragged out of the house by several hulking, humourless officers.

"Toss her in Cell Three," Sergeant Samantha ordered coldly.

"Isn't that the one with the female biker gang?"

"Your point is?"

"Just asking," the O'Malley shrugged. "Wanted to make sure I didn't put him somewhere else by mistake."

"Get to it," the Sergeant smiled. "I want her stay to be memorable."

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	17. 15 Holidays with Hippies

**Author's Note:**

This is a continuation/soft reboot of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse, with a bunch of changes. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" by Rorschach's Blot. Both are used with the permission of their original authors. The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter or anything else.

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Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.

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Canon-compliant. HP&DH compliant (except the Epilogue). HP&CC compliant (except the conclusion). FB&WTFT compliant. Pottermore compliant (mostly).

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Fanfiction Recommedations of the Week: "Bungle in the Jungle" and "Turn me Loose" by jbern.

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Question of the Week: What's the most mortifying thing _your_ parents have ever done in front of one of your friends?

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 **Chapter 15 – Holidays with Hippies**

Two cats and one mouse, two women and one house, two dogs and one bone, will not agree to loan.

– Old German proverb

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It seemed somehow fitting that Petunia Evans, then Dursley, never left the nest her entire life.

Harry apparated to his old, familiar haunt of Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey and was shocked by how small the place looked. His old house had assumed gargantuan dimensions in his memory and imagination, and seeing that he could now run clear around the entire property in less than five minutes was a real head-trip.

 _Petooooooooonia, come out come out wherever you are, called the Grim. Veeeeeeernon, we know you're out there, we can hear you breathing! No need to be shy, we won't hurt you. We just have some lovely little hexes for you to chew on for the next decade or eight ..._

 _Prek! barked the owl. Prek!_

 _That's not a human-call, the Grim said crossly. That's not even a turkey-call!_

 _Prek! barked the owl._

 _How dare you! My grandmother was a saint, a saint! bellowed the Grim._

 _Prek!_

 _Well, the same to you, buddy!_

 _Can we get a move on? asked the Otter impatiently. It's getting dark, and I want to try Tom's lamb cutlet special that's on tonight._

 _In and out, Harry agreed with his faithful friend. Then we can get back to stuffing our gullets._

Now was the time to take down the final two foes and complete Project Revenge-On-This-Version-Of-The-Dursleys-Even-Though-They-Haven't-Done-Anything-To-Me-But-I'm-Still-Going-To-Make-Sure-That-They-Can't-Screw-Over-Any-Other-Child's-Life. Slipping in through the back door, which was still left unlocked (even in the 1970's it seemed), Harry stealthily made his way up the stairs.

 _Prek! barked the owl._

 _Oh yeah, well at least I'm not a feathered, lice-carrying vermin-farm, the Grim shot back._

 _Prek!_

 _Pipe down in there! Harry ordered sternly. It's go time!_

Reaching the second floor, he silently moved from room to room, checking each as he went. Nobody so far.

 _Mr and Mr Evans most likely reside in the master bedroom, the Otter said wisely. Your best bet would be in Dudley's old … new room._

 _Good idea, cheered Harry._

He quickly made his way towards the future bloated whale's bloating grounds.

And came face to face with a dripping wet Lily Evans, clad only in a fluffy white towel, who had just exited the bathroom.

In sync, their eyes widened comically.

Then hers narrowed. Dangerously.

"Pettigrew," she hissed with deadly venom. Suddenly her wand was in her hand and pointed between his eyes.

"Uh …" Harry was at a complete loss for words for this sort of situation. The only scantily-clad-or-less women he'd ever been around were Hermione, who was practically a sibling and couldn't care less about his proximity, or Ginny, who was usually trying to snag his full attention at the time. "… where were you keeping that wand?" he finally blurted out. Half a microsecond later he realised what a poor choice of words that was.

" _Densaugeo!_ "

 _Flee! shrieked the Dormouse._

His rat-instincts spurring him on, he lurched to the right, hitting the wall and barely dodging the sick yellow light of the curse. Scuttling backwards, his foot hit a raised fold of carpet, tripping him over, and fortuitously allowing him to miss the next hex, a dark green mist. Falling onto his back, he crabwalked backwards at great speed until his neck hit the wall. The enraged 16-year old crimson tornado was already lining up her next shot.

" _Castigo! Obstringere!_ "

 _Room to the left! instructed the Dormouse. Go now!_

Harry rolled to the left, out of the corridor and into the adjoining room, dodging a curse that splashed ineffectively against the wall. Leaping to his feet, he desperately looked around for cover. A plethora of pink, red, and yellow curtains, sheets, pillows, carpet and paintings. A hundred stuffed animals of all shapes, sizes, colours and fluffiness stared back at him in grave silence. Nothing but an ordinary looking bedroom with nowhere to hide except the closet (far too obvious) and behind the bed (very little cover). Hearing his nemesis rushing up behind him, he made his split-second choice and dived behind the bed, narrowly missing yet another jinx. Pulling out one of his Veela-hair wands, he rapidly began spellcasting. The blankets and sheets on the bed raised up to form a vertical barrier and hardened. It wasn't a shield that would withstand her full barrage for long, but it would absorb several spells. Hopefully giving her enough time to cool down, or for him to talk her out of bloody murder and mayhem.

"Pettigrew you fiend! Come out here and face your punishment!" she bellowed in a very Pandora-like way. His blanket barrier shuddered under the impact of her hexes and then gave out, dissolving into tiny shreds that fluttered throughout the room like snowflakes in a snowglobe.

 _Fallen in the line of duty, the Grim said gravely. Flimsy barrier, your last stand will be forever remembered. Your noble and heroic sacrifice will not be in vain, for you have given us the chance to prepare our counterattack._

 _The dog solemnly saluted._

Harry finished the last swish of his wand and activated the animation spell.

Lily shrieked as every stuffed toy in her room came to life and leaped at her. Individually, their mass was negligible (being made of feathers and fur), but as a single, combined hammer-blow, it was enough to knock a five-foot-six 120-pound off-guard schoolgirl off her feet. "Ooof!"

 _One of the most useful features of the transfiguration and animation branches of magic is that it does not require the caster to maintain a line-of-sight with the target, the Lynx lectured, a look of serene satisfaction on his feline features._

Harry dared not look over the edge of the bed, but could hear the Queen of Hogwarts grunting and struggling with the implacable fluffy menaces as he readied his next set of spells.

"Get off me, Unicorn Jim! Don't think I won't end you, Mr Cuddles! Arrrgh!"

Lily had finally had enough. She cut through the chaos in her room by stomping her foot, raising a wave of magic (and feathers and stuffing) that emanated from her footfall and thundered silently outwards through the room, rattling the windows and lamps. The massed ranks fell silent and collapsed, as all the animation magic was cancelled in one burst. Lily rolled to her feet, ready to end this once and for all … and came face to face with a tornado of fabric.

Every unshredded sheet, blanket, pillow and stuffed toy in the room coalesced. The closet doors and dresser draws flew open, disgorging their content like colourful vomit to join the shape forming in the heart of the maelstrom. (The puking sound they made while doing it seemed unnecessary though.) The forming shape formed a shape of very recognisable shape to the redheaded witch.

The giant Snuggle-bunny glared at her. She glared right back.

It roared, sending shudders through the walls and floor.

"Come and get me!" she sneered back defiantly.

"Lily-flower, what's the meaning of all this hullabaloo?" came a deep, masculine voice.

"Nothing you need to worry about Dad, just some filthy pervert who decided to sneak in for a free show. I'll take care of the vermin."

"Hello Mr Evans," Harry squeaked, risking a peek over the top of the bed. "I'm Peter, one of Lily's friends from school. I dropped by to help her with something of great importance."

"Liar!" the girl sneered, her wand never wavering. "What could you possibly have to say that cannot be said through owl Post, or through our mirrors?"

"Something important," he insisted mulishly.

"So important that it required you to pay an up-close-and-personal visit to my shower – while I was in it?" she challenged. "Well, out with it! What's your grand excuse?"

That stumped him.

 _You can't tell her you came here to hex the bejeezus out of her sister; as far as she knows you've never met and haven't the slightest cause for animus, the Otter said sensibly._

 _I know, let's tell her that your newfound role as a Ministry DCI requires you to make detailed checks of the bathing practices of all your fellow female students! Serious business, that, very serious; it's necessary for the Ministry to keep proper up-to-date records, offered the Grim with a charming doggy smile. We can say that DCI stands for_ 'Delectabili Corporum Inspector' _, the 'Inspector of Delectable Bodies'!_

 _You're not helping, you slavering chauvinist! huffed the Otter._

"Can I come out so we can talk about it without you cursing me?" he temporised.

"Why don't you come out and let me hex you a few times, then you spout whatever story you've made up," Lily countered.

"Uh, thanks but I'll pass."

"Too bad – in five seconds I'm transfiguring that bed into a hydra and setting it loose on you."

"Wards!"

"What?"

"I came to check your ward situation!" Harry was thinking desperately on the fly.

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he said hastily, "that I, a mere student, was able to walk into your house straight off the street without using a scrap of magic. Imagine if I'd been a Death Eater coming to kill you and your family." She actually looked thoughtful at that. "This proves that this place desperately needs a proper set of wards erected to stop that situation from ever arising."

Further discussion came to a halt as Lily's father entered the room to discern the source of the trouble. He jumped in fright at the sight of the giant, fluffy creature made out of his daughter's entire wardrobe. "Far out!" he exclaimed.

He was a tall, stocky, slightly chubby and slightly balding man with long, greying hair tied back in a ponytail. Of greater surprise to Harry was his getup: multi-coloured dashiki and cream bell-bottom trousers. Bright cotton bangles adorned his wrists and neck.

"Sorry about the Snuggle-bunny," Harry apologised. "We ah … had a bit of a disagreement, and things got out of hand a little."

"No problem, brother," the man murmured, eyes fixed on the creature in starry wonder. "'Snuggle-bunny' you say? Off the hook! This is an example of 'magic' is it, Lily-flower?"

She reluctantly nodded.

"How zomba," he breathed. "She'd always confab about these things, you know, but she was never allowed to perform anything. To see it right before my peepers like this …" He reached out a tentative hand to the creature, and let it sniff him cautiously.

Lily's eyes widened in horror. "Oh no! The underage magic restrictions!" But her worst fears were realised as an owl flew in through the open window and dropped an official-looking letter, sealed with the great seal of the Ministry of Magic, on to her (now bare) bed. Giving a chastising 'prek!' to the company, the bird circled the room once, then was out through the window and back into the night once more.

"You! This is all your fault! I'm going to get thrown into Azkaban, or worse, expelled!" she accused Harry.

"You mean to tell me you haven't got your untraceable wands yet?" Harry demanded. "Come on Lils, you're falling behind the rest of the HA!"

"I've been busy," she snapped, suddenly on the defensive.

"Don't worry about the note," Harry said blithely. "I've been getting warnings like this for years, and the Ministry's never done anything about it."

 _Except for that one time you were dragged in front of the entire Wizengamot and tried as an adult, the Lynx reminded him._

 _I was a political prisoner! Harry protested hotly._

 _Whatever you say, the mighty feline responded, licking its paw._

In the meantime, the Snuggle-bunny had become comfortable with the new arrival, and allowed Lily's father to rub its muzzle. When he slipped his hand down to scratch it under its chin, it gave a pleased chuckle/growl/purr and its hind leg began thumping the ground rapidly, sending shudders through the structure of the house again.

"Easy for you to say – I'm a responsible person, not some recidivist troublemaker!" Lily snarked.

"Oh please," Harry snorted, finally coming out from his hiding place to join the others, "you're Lady Black now, remember. What are they gonna do, feed you to the Dementors? Never gonna happen, the Wizengamot would riot."

"What's this? Is The Man hassling you, baby? Tell me what's wrong and I'll have a thing or two to do to those jive-ass turkeys," Mr Evans said with sudden menace.

"Chill, Dad," Lily sighed. "It's just a warning. Nothing's going to happen to me."

"That's right," Harry added. "Lily's an important person in the magical world now; they won't dare to piss her off … er, pardon my French. And if they _do_ go after her, well, they'll have ME to deal with!" Harry puffed out his chest confidently.

Mr Evans looked the boy over, approval sparkling in his eyes. "That's exactly the right sort of attitude I expect from my Lily-flower's squeeze," he said.

"Gah! Dad, he's NOT my squeeze! He's a moronic skeezy grueler that I can't seem to ditch!"

"You wound me, Lily-flower; such a cruel squeeze you are!" Harry gave his best Padfoot puppy-dog impression, and was gratified to see a twitch develop in her brow. Maybe it was petty of him, but he was still a little pissed at her trying to hurl that dreaded tooth-growing jinx at him earlier.

 _So many traumatic memories of that spell, the Otter shuddered._

"Lily, don't rag on your main man," Mr Evans said sternly, "we raised you to be a decent type."

"What's going on up there?" a female voice yelled up to them. "The whole crib is shaking like there's an earthquake."

"Nothing, Sparklepop," the man hollered down. "Lily is just entertaining a young stud in her shagpad!"

"Jump back!?" came the voice. An excited woman bounded into the room with the energy of a Labrador puppy. "Lily-flower, that's mondo-cool – I'm so proud of you! My baby's finally growing up into a big girl! I have to admit, I was starting to wonder if there might be something wrong with your equipment. Or if your bread was buttered on the other side."

"Muuuuuuuum!" Lily whined, flushed red in outrage at the suggestion. "I'm not into women, alright! Never have been, never will be!"

"Fooey, don't take on so," shushed her mother. "There's nothing wrong with liking foxy bunnies. I certainly had _my_ share when I was your age. I particularly remember this blonde pair of Swedish twins who were backpacking across Britain … convinced them to crash in my crib for a whole week … meeeeyow!" She fanned herself dramatically.

Harry's brows were raising to the ceiling. "Please go on, Mrs Evans," he encouraged politely.

"Do it and die!" Lily stamped her foot in irritation – an action that would have come across as a lot more intimidating if she were not acting like a petulant toddler (and clad only in a towel) at the time.

"What your mother's saying," Mr Evans intervened to try to placate his fiery daughter, "is that you don't have to feel ashamed about having a youngblood over to jump your bones. Nobody here's going to judge you for it: sowing your wild oats doesn't make you easy, no fake. When I was growing up I was no pimp, but even I had all sorts of chicks dropping in to hang out in my bedroom; and your mother had her share of studs drop round to see her, too. And some stone-cold foxes – I'm not too hung up to admit that your Mum was far better at pulling stone foxes than me! Even for a long time after we married, it wasn't unusual for us to invite a fox or two to stay in our bed for a while, for a bit of good times."

"Aaargh! I don't need to hear this!" Lily was trying to hold up her wand, hold up her towel and hold her hands over her ears to block out the horrifying information, all at the same time.

"Mellow out, Lily-flower," her father said in concern. "The point is, our parents were total drags about everything, and we vowed not to make the same mistake with you and Tuney."

"I think Richard and I were even swinging the night you were conceived, Lily-flower," Mrs Evans mused, her pensive emerald eyes lost in the distance. "What a heavy key-party that was; it lasted three whole days! Or was it a rainbow-party? I forget. Do you remember, Richard?" she asked, completely oblivious to the sparks that were starting to crackle in her youngest child's hair. "Once you've been to a few dozen swingers' nights or key-parties or underwater orgies, they all start to blur together, you understand," she explained to an open-mouthed Harry.

"I am leaving to get changed now," Lily enunciated primly, ice chipping off every syllable. "If you don't wish to find out how it feels to be transfigured into a pile of flobberworms and left in the middle of the highway, then I suggest you abandon this topic of conversation immediately." Then she carefully negotiated her way around the giant animate apparel-rabbit and left with every shred of dignity she could muster.

 _Where's she going to get her clothes from, the Grim wondered, since they're all presently composing the body of that Snuggle-bunny?_

The Evanses sighed.

"Are we such bad parents, man?" Richard asked Harry mournfully. "How did our babies grow up into such flat tires? I mean, they're both cubes, they're putting our whole family on the train to Squaresville, daddy!"

"Uh …" Not having children, Harry hadn't the faintest idea how to reassure the couple.

"So _you're_ the Peter Pettigrew Lily keeps going on and on about in her letters, I presume?" came an unpleasantly familiar high-pitched nasal voice. Heart sinking, Harry turned to regard his quarry, the prey of his hunt tonight; a 20-year old Petunia Evans, she of the giraffe's-neck and horse's-face, stood in the hallway regarding him with a look of prim disdain. Her eyes widened on spotting the Snuggle-bunny, which had started to nibble on a bedpost; defiantly, she turned her back on the creature. "Can you get rid of that horrible … ' _thing_ ' at once?!" she demanded shrilly of Harry. "We want none of that sort of mischief in our good, proper home, thankyou very much."

"Now now, Tuney," her father said sternly. "I won't have you getting hung up on this. We love and respect _all_ of the Cosmos's living creatures inside this pad. The Snuggle-bunny has just as much right to live its life unhassled as you do."

"That's what you say about the spiders outside my window," Petunia grumbled mutinously.

"Because it's true," Richard said, with an air of finality. "Now we'll hear no more of it, otherwise Mr Snuggle-bunny may have to live in _your_ bedroom for a while, to teach you some respect for the other beings who accompany us on this eternal journey."

Petunia paled and fled.

Richard returned his attention to the beast, going over to stroke its soft chest (made of a cluster of stuffed teddy bears). It gave an appreciative snuffle, and nuzzled at his neck.

"Welcome to our humble pad; you must stay for dinner, young casanova," Mrs Evans declared, linking her arm with his.

"What … but, uh, don't you want to spend some family time with Lily?" he temporised. "You know, as a _family_?"

"We can do that at the same time," the woman said firmly. "You're the first pal Lily has ever brought in from her magical shack since that hot-tamale Mary MacDonald babe, and we simply _must_ confab. You can tell me all the Morning Glories about the mischief my Lily-flower has been getting up to while she's so far away."

"Uh, well, you see, I'm supposed to be having dinner with an old friend of mine tonight, and it'd be ever so rude to back out on her at the last minute …"

"Call her on the blower and tell her to come too. We have gobs of grub and good vibes! More than enough to share around." She waggled a finger at him. "Any friend who wants to bogart you is not a true friend, you just remember that, no jivin'!"

"Um, when you say hot-tamale … and babe … and no bogarting," Harry asked slowly, "you don't mean … you and Mary …?"

Mrs Evans winked slyly, and led him implacably downstairs into the dining room, never once having noticed the enormous Snuggle-bunny which occupied the majority of the space of Lily's bedroom, and who was observing events with rapt attention. Except when Richard scratched it juuuust there. Oh yeah. Its hind leg began thumping again.

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Lily stormed up into the attic and quickly located one of her mother's less-outrageous dresses to wear. Locating a hand-mirror and a comb, she set about straightening out and taming her frazzled red hedge of a mane. Her hair always frizzed out crazily whenever she experienced strong emotion; she highly suspected it was an effect of subtle accidental magic charging the air around her, like a mystical van der Graaff generator. Finally satisfied with her appearance, she made her way calmly back to her room to find some underwear and jewellery to put on.

Opening the door, she came face to face with the Snuggle-bunny. "I need my underthings," she declared. It cocked its head and regarded her with a puzzled mien. "I'm serious," she raised her wand threateningly.

The creature gave a half-yelp half-purr, then coughed up a pile of bras and panties onto her head, rather like a cat hacks up a hairball.

"Thanks," she grumbled, dressing herself hurriedly. Grabbed her watch, necklace, earrings, bangles and ankle-bracelet. There! Now she was ready for anything. More specifically, now she was ready to throw the interloper out onto the street with extreme prejudice if he were suicidal enough to still be present in her home.

Skipping down the stairs three-at-a-time, she reached the kitchen. To find a rather stiff Petunia sitting stiffly at the counter and sipping a cup of tea very slowly and very deliberately.

"Petunia? What's going on?"

"Mum and Dad are giving them 'the skinny' on our family," her sister grit her teeth.

"Them?"

"Another freak showed up, some old friend of his. And they are _both_ staying for dinner." Petunia said stiffly, in a tone one would normally reserve for explaining that _all_ of their children had been arrested for football-rioting and one was going to let them cool their heels in the cooler for a few days to ensure they learned their lesson in full.

"Oh no," Lily groaned. "Mum didn't …"

"She did. And now she and that freak-woman are getting along like a house on fire."

 _Woman?_ Lily suddenly felt an irrational spike of jealousy. Was it Apolline? Or Pandora? Or some other harpy intruding in on Lily's home-turf, angling to get her claws into her … into Pettigrew?

Worse, the two of them were now ensconced in the dining room with her mortifying, insufferable, horribly-embarrassing hippie parents, who hadn't seemed to realise that the counterculture stopped being cool a good five years ago. Lily groaned to herself. This was _exactly_ the reason she'd never brought her friends over to visit, not since that disastrous tea party that was her 10th birthday party; a tea party that somehow, inexplicably, turned into a totally-munga tea-and-toke party without anybody realising it. Well, not for the first five hours, anyway. What was it her schoolmates dubbed it? 'Freak-weed Friday'? Ugh. Getting her Hogwarts letter and being able to hide away in a sanctuary in the frozen depths of Scotland for nine months a year was quite the blessing.

With equal parts dread and territoriality in her footfalls, she entered the room. Same old dining room; mood lights on, strings of beads hanging over the doorways, giant dreamcatchers on the walls, red and blue lava lamps in the corners for additional illumination. Giant fireplace with mantle filled with Buddha statues, prayer bowls, Tibetan flags, star charts and crystal balls. Wind chimes hanging from the ceiling.

There they were: her father Richard in his long ponytail, colourful dashiki and cream bellbottoms; her mother Hyacinth in her standard hand-made tie-dyed t-shirt, long floral skirt, and insect-themed earrings; Pettigrew in his stupid muggle slacks and white Oxford shirt, smiling stupidly and looking stupidly down at a some stupid photographs her Dad was bragging about; and The Woman. She sighed an internal sigh of relief when she realised how monstrously ugly the other female was, some sort of human-amphibian hybrid, if one were to be uncharitable. (And Lily was feeling mighty uncharitable at the moment.) She was dressed in a businesswoman's sensible black pantsuit, pearl necklace, polished black shoes, blonde hair tied back in a tight bun. Looking every inch a muggle mover-and-shaker.

Hold the phone, photographs?! Ohnonononononono …

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"This is the family at the famous Isle of Wight Festival in August '70. You can see little Lily-flower dancing naked in the mud here," her father was explaining proudly, turning another page of the photo album. "It was the largest and most happenin' musical event of all time, even bigger than Woodstock! 700,000 cats gathered together, preaching and living peace, love and community. And here we are meeting Jimi Hendrix. The Man tried to stop us from going backstage, but Lily-flower was so adorable they were helpless to resist!"

Harry examined the photo. Richard and Hyacinth were standing next to a tall, shaggy-looking fellow in a baggy red outfit and holding a guitar. He had no idea who Jimi Hendrix was, but the couple sure seemed delighted to meet him, judging from their jazz-hands and the million-watt smiles they beamed into the camera. A 14-year old Petunia could be seen hiding in shame behind a sub-woofer in the background. Sprouting from the shaggy man's afro was a 10-year old Lily Evans – a mop of blazing red with eyes, wide toothy grin and gangly limbs attached – perched there like a baby bird in a nest.

"And this is us on the 'hippie trail' through Afghanistan and India in '68. Lily-flower was eight at the time. Here's us at the Maharishi's ashram. And here we are at the sacred Ganges River in Benares. You can see Lily playing naked on the ghats. And here's Lily dancing naked in the river. It was _so_ difficult to convince my youngest to wear clothes, all the way up until she was 11 ... Then she overnight transformed into the most uptight square I've ever met! Been that way ever since, like she's somehow embarrassed about herself. I'm out to lunch." He shook his head in consternation. "That's why I'm so glad a juicer like you's in the cards, young Peter; you've already unwound her so much in one night! Keep up the righteous work and I'm confident my baby'll be back to wavy-gravy in no time flat!" Richard gave Harry a proud grin and manly clap on the shoulder.

"So tell me more about what she was like before age 11?" Harry inquired politely. This was his one chance to gather as much dirt as he could on the proper, upstanding, not-a-chink-in-her-armour Queen of Gryffindor, and by Merlin, he was going to grab onto it with both paws.

"Well, I tried to be as tolerant as the next cat about these things, but it's hard when you send your daughter to kindergarten in the morning and she leaves her uniform and underwear on the bus every time. Eventually the driver refused to keep returning them to me. And don't get me started on all those bring-your-sprog-to-work days –"

"Okay, I think that's enough looking through the photobooks!" Lily interrupted hastily, snatching the albums away and making off with them at lightspeed.

"Everything copacetic, petal?" her mother called at her retreating back. "You've been acting awfully zappy tonight; perhaps you're coming down with something?"

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.

It was certainly shaping up as an interesting evening (exactly _how_ interesting, Harry and Hermione were as yet unaware). Lily had taken her parents to task for humiliating her so badly in front of her Housemate, the extent of which they couldn't possibly understand because they were so old and decrepit and out-of-touch with the magical and mundane worlds. Richard and Hyacinth rose to the challenge by demonstrating just how young and hip and with it they still were. Beginning by modelling Lily's Hogwarts school uniforms for everyone, just to show they could rock it. Both of them.

"It fits perfectly," Hyacinth purred, stretching this way and that. "I could drop in to Hogwarts today and no wiz would say boo. Look at me, I'm Glinda the Good Witch of the Groove!" True to her word, she started grooving to music that only she could hear. She seized a spatula from the washing-rack and mimed casting spells here and there as she twirled around.

"This skirt is a bit tight," Richard commented, having to suck in his gut to stay inside the much-smaller blouse and skirt ensemble. "And what's with all the greys and blacks? It's so flat, man. Can't we liven it up a tad?" He made do with placing a large pair of green shades on his eyes and an orange fedora on his head.

Petunia decided to call in reinforcements, and demanded that if Lily was going to have friends join her for dinner, then her boyfriend Vernon was coming too. Harry wholeheartedly supported the idea. If Muhammad can't get to the whale, then the whale could come to Muhammad.

 _Then we can complete our jihad! cheered the Grim._

"To the shag wag!" Richard announced.

It was tight squeeze for the two flower children, two time travellers, and two mortified squares to fit into the Ford, but eventually the mobile sardine-tin was on course, wending its way past the endless series of soul-crushing grey-brick officeblocks where Vernon Dursley worked. Harry had to hide his shock at the first sight of the 28-year old Vernon. The conservative business suit was to be expected, but not the trim figure and bulging muscles.

 _Seems our Vernon's not yet taking in triple the amount of calories needed to sustain a full-grown whale, the Grim smirked._

Nor the gigantic blond afro that the man sported with such evident pride.

 _Wow, your uncle's afro is far more impressive than that Hendrix fellow's, opined the Dormouse._

"Looking flash as a rat with a gold tooth, Vernon," complimented Richard. "You always were a son of the snappy threads, amirite? Now let's boogie!" He hit the accelerator.

If Harry's former/future uncle was in any way surprised by being picked up by a pair of adults in (female) school uniform, he did not show it, instead opting to shower his girlfriend (perched on his lap) with the totality of his attention. Petunia basked happily.

Hyacinth fiddled with the radio impatiently, finally settling on a station. 'Sympathy for the Devil' filled the car. "The Stones are stone-cold gas, you dig it?" she asked Hermione.

"I do," Hermione agreed, "I've heard their music here and there; my parents are big fans of them. And the Grateful Dead."

"Deadheads, eh? I think you're gonna fit in around here just fine, babe," the woman replied happily.

"Uh, thanks. So Richard, Peter tells me that you're a banker of some sort? How do you square that with your … beliefs?"

"You know it; unfortunately love, peace and brotherhood don't pay the bills, so I've gotta grit my teeth and grind away for The Man over in the City. But it's worth it to keep my three lovely chickies in bread."

"Vernon Dursley," the man introduced himself to Hermione. "You're … not one of _them_ , are you?" he asked cautiously.

"Dolores Umbridge, but everyone calls me 'Hermione'," Hermione replied. At his bewildered look, she explained, "I've always hated the name Dolores, and I'm a big fan of Shakespeare, so …"

Dursley nodded. He could accept someone who appreciated proper English literature. Especially one who looked every inch the pinnacle of muggle respectability.

"And yes, I am 'one of them'," she continued primly. Vernon paled and tried to shift further away, which was impossible.

"Hermione works for the government, control and regulation of dangerous creatures," Harry added proudly.

"So you keep people safe from wild animals?" asked Petunia curiously. She'd never met a working professional woman before. And this one seemed to be so highly-placed in authority …

Hermione nodded decisively. "There are many dangerous things out there, and it's my job to make sure that they can't get loose and hurt 'decent folk'," a hint of sarcasm added to the last phrase.

A hint that went completely over Petunia's head. "Are you a clerk or secretary?" she asked.

"Certainly not. Though I do have a staff of clerks and secretaries under me."

Petunia was most impressed in spite of herself. Even if this woman was 'one of those people', she clearly had a good head on her shoulders. A true go-getter. No wasting away in typing pools or secretarial jobs or lunch lady runs!

The trouble began innocuously enough. Richard said something like, "Hyacinth, I feel a bit lightheaded. Maybe you should drive …"

Suddenly, there was a terrible keen that echoed all around them, and the sky was full with what looked like huge black bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around them, and voices from Harry's past were screaming in his mind.

"Holy Mordred! Dementors!" he hissed at Hermione, the pair brandishing wands swiftly. Lily felt the aura of despair a second later and followed suit.

"No Richard, it's your turn ..." Hyacinth trailed off.

The muggles looked around in confusion, weirded out by Harry, Hermione and Lily's reactions.

 _No point in mentioning these Dementors yet,_ Harry thought. _Poor bastards will feel their effects soon enough._

"We need to get back home and indoors – NOW!" Hermione ordered. Harry wound down his window and poked his head outside, eyes scanning the skies, trying to get a bead on the loathsome creatures that wheeled and dived. They were hard to track against the black night sky.

" _Expecto Patronem!_ " Prongs leaped out and trotted alongside the Ford, easily keeping up with the vehicle.

"What's going on?" asked Petunia in alarm. Her arms squeezed Vernon in a death grip.

"We're under attack!" Hermione snapped. "We have to find shelter before they hit – floor it!"

"Blow up the cheese, Richard!" Hyacinth ordered, and the shag wag roared and lurched forward, hitting 60 then 70 miles per hour. Richard weaved through the (fortunately empty) streets with consummate skill, houses and buildings blurred by, tires screeching in pain and protest at the abuse. Prongs was momentarily left behind, but swiftly increased his canter, pulling up alongside once more. With a mighty leap, he pounced onto the roof.

"What was that?" demanded Vernon, at the loud thump above their heads.

"A friend," Harry responded laconically. Then cursed loudly – for in Prongs' silvery shimmering light, he had caught sight of wizards in the sky, bearing down on the car on their brooms, black cloaks streaming behind them in a way Snape could only envy. "Death Munchers!"

Harry and Hermione leaned head and shoulders out of their respective windows and fired whichever area-wide distance spells they could think of. The pursuing wizards returned fire. Around the car flew flashes of light, all colours of the rainbow. Pockets of the bitumen exploded, huge chunk flying in all directions. Richard desperately swerved to avoid the potholes and the falling debris. Lily tore off her seatbelt and threw herself over Harry's lap so that she too could reach out of the window and unload at their enemies.

A sudden right turn, and Lily yelped as she started to roll off their laps. Harry seized her around the waist with one hand and dragged her up bodily to half-sit half-sprawl on top of him. "Guess now's the time to put all that HA training to the test, eh Lils?" he grunted. Together they leaned out of the car window once more and cast. Hermione ensured the Ford's path was unobstructed.

" _Castigo! Cistem Apario!_ "

" _Cero Ventus! Telum Conico!_ "

" _Leviosa! Leviosa! Leviosa!_ " Hermione's wand danced, and the large wheelie-bins, bicycles, hot-dog stands and tires levitated into the air above the road, out of the Ford's way. Then hurled themselves at the oncoming broom-riders. The wizards scattered in all directions to avoid the barrage.

"Gotcha!" Harry finally managed to nail one of their airborne assailants, in a pure fluke of a shot (considering the distance and how fast both he and the Death Eaters were moving). He watched in satisfaction as the robed figure's broom dissolved into shards, and the man tumbled down into the ground. Well, into a plant nursery, to be more accurate.

"Hope you like eating manure, Man-Who-Fell-To-Earth!" Hermione jibed grimly.

"I LOVE David Bowie!" Hyacinth squealed.

"Me too!"

Hermione and Hyacinth shared a tight grin.

"Could you two maybe save bonding over some androgynous fop for a time when we're not in mortal peril?" snapped Lily, ignoring the affronted look the two women shot her.

"Where'd you learn to drive like this?" Vernon demanded, as they cleared another crossing and hit a hard left, back of the car fishtailing wildly.

"Hyacinth's sister's sugar daddy Onslow used to run a drag racing gig. Me and my brother Sheridan would hang out there every weekend back in our square days!" Richard finished the turn and hit the gas again.

Harry felt like he'd left most of his internal organs somewhere behind at the plant nursery.

"What's going on? I feel … so cold!" Petunia shivered in Vernon's arms.

"You remember those 'dangerous creatures' we were talking about earlier, Tuney?" said Lily. "Well, here are a bunch of 'em. You won't be able to see them though. But if one gets close to you, you'll definitely _feel_ it, no fake!"

"When they approach, you feel a chill and it seems like every bad thing that ever happened to you's back again," Hermione elaborated. "They're basically despair squids."

"Despair, eh?" growled Richard. "We'll fix that – Hyancinth, find us some funky grooves to chase away those blues!"

Hyacinth quickly found an appropriate station and cranked the music way up.

The rather uncommon event of a Ford emblazoned with flower motifs tearing through the empty Surrey streets at high speed while blasting "Shake Your Booty" by KC and the Sunshine Band at full-bore, unsurprisingly attracted the attention of certain parties.

"It's the fuzz!" announced Richard, seeing the red and blue flashing lights of the pursuing squad car in his rear-view mirror.

"Don't stop!" ordered Hermione and Lily simultaneously.

But this quickly became a moot point. The lights of the police car flickered, the siren died, and the cruiser swerved, crashing into a fruit stand. The stationary vehicle disappeared into the distance behind them.

"Heavy," breathed Hyacinth in shock.

"Yeah, and we don't want the same thing happening to us," Hermione replied, patting her shoulder comfortingly.

They made excellent time, and before you could say ' _Keep Calm And Tune In_ ', the shag wag screeched to a halt in a wild doughnut around the Privet Drive. Richard re-started the stalled engine and powered into their garage, the automatic doors sliding shut.

"That was … off the hook …" panted Richard into the deafening silence.

"We made it," breathed Petunia in relief.

"Not hardly," said Harry grimly. "They'll be on us in a minute. We've got to prepare for a siege – Hermione, anti-transport wards are coming up!"

"I feel them too," Hermione agreed. "Anti-apparition, anti-portkey, anti-Floo. We're trapped like rats."

"Then it's time to fight like rats," Harry replied.

"Let's book then!" declared Hyacinth.

The Ford disgorged its contents into a disorganised tangle. Pulling each other upright, the party charged into the house.

Hermione cast her Patronus. "Go to the DMLE, summon the Aurors! Four Privet Drive, Surrey! Go!" The silver otter chittered and sped away.

"Prongs!" Harry called. The silver stag, who had leaped off the car's roof and followed the humans into the main house (invisible to the muggles), nickered attentively. "Go to Alastor Moody's house. Tell him Death Eaters have us pinned down in a muggle house, and to send the cavalry! Just follow the underage use of magic monitors, they must be lighting up like Christmas lights right now. Go!" And Prongs was off.

"We should call the fuzz!"

"They won't be any help," Harry told Hyacinth. "They'd just get themselves killed for no reason. Remember what happened to that police car back there? We've only got ourselves to rely on for now."

"I've got a couple of pokers and my divining rod in the back shed," stated Richard. "We'll show these jive-ass mothers what's what!"

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"Richard, Hyacinth, can you do something for me?" Harry threw them a clear bag that was filled with powder-blue cigarettes.

"What are these?" Hyacinth ably snagged the package out of the air.

Harry grinned. "The last of my stash. A magical substance we call Melancholia. As its name suggests, this stuff makes you feel all sad and depressed for hours ..."

"… so sad and depressed that these turkeys won't feel like brawling anymore …" Richard finished in realisation.

"Got it in one – they want to break out the despair-monsters? Well, two can play at that game! Can you shred the Melancholia and make it into balls I can throw?"

"Right on, boss! We'll mix these downers for you right quick!" Exuberantly throwing off his glasses and fedora, he quickly got to work shredding the cigarettes and their contents into a neat pile of blue powder on the table, grumbling with annoyance as Lily's Hogwarts blouse and robe impeded his movements. Finally, he'd had enough and tore the shirt open with one mighty pull, buttons ricocheting in all directions. Sighing with relief at his increased airflow, he grabbed a sheaf of cigarette paper and began wrapping the powder into makeshift doobie-balls.

Hyacinth dashed out of the room and quickly returned with the Evanses' own stash, a bag in each hand. She dropped onto the counter one bag of cannabis and another bag filled with an assortment of brightly coloured pellets. "These'll mellow those jokers out even more!"

"Good thinking, Sparklepop!"

"What's that?" their youngest daughter asked, bursting into the room.

"Our stash: wacky-backy and Lucy in the Sky," her mother replied absently, pouring out the bags' contents.

"What?! You two are _unbelievable_! You think NOW's a good time to get baked?" Lily demanded furiously.

"Don't take that tone with us, Lily-flower," her father said, as he and his wife ground the LSD tablets down to powder, chopped up the cannabis leaves, then mixed the results together thoroughly with the Melancholia, with the ease of long practice. "Just a little something to mellow out your magical friends out there."

"And the Lucy will hopefully bless them with the worst trips of their lives," added her mother.

Lily opened her mouth, but was interrupted by Umbridge's call. "Lily! I need you down here!" Frowning, she ran back out.

"Done, boss!" Richard announced, as the duo finished wrapping up the last of the bundles. Sure they were uneven and scrappy looking, but it wasn't like their enemies were going to be appreciating their aesthetic value anytime soon. "Here's your 'downer balls', good to go!"

"I prefer 'bummer balls'," his wife interjected.

"Throw them out onto the front lawn, and out onto the street; make sure they're nice and spread out," Harry ordered from the window, as he continued his furious transfigurations.

"You lot are really harshing my mellow!" Richard yelled defiantly at the dark shapes that were landing on the road. "I'll call you out – you wanna fight with me and my family? Then fight dese tears!" and began hurling 'downer balls' out of the window with all his strength.

"You ain't just a woofin'!" his wife agreed, throwing her own arsenal.

 _I am! woofed the Grim._

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Petunia found herself dragged along by the hand by the decisive Miss Umbridge, Vernon taking up the rear.

"There," Umbridge said, pointing her wand at the front door. "We need to shore up all the doors and ground floor windows." She waved her stick thingie around and muttered something under her breath which sounded a bit like the lyrics of a Beatles song. The door and windows glowed briefly with an eerie blue light. "I've done what I can, you and Vernon move whatever furniture you can in front of them. Every bit of thickness our barricade has, the better!" And then she was off to the back door.

Petunia found herself in awe at the cool and calm manner in which this woman took command of the situation. Hands trembling uncontrollably, she and her boyfriend got to work shifting tables and chairs against the door and windows as fast as they were able.

"Lily! I need you down here!" bellowed her hero. A moment later, her sister flew down the stairs and around to the back door.

"Here they come, Pet," declared Vernon, panting with the exertion. He wiped his brow nervously.

She looked out the small corner of window not obscured by furniture and saw about a dozen black-clad figures emerging out of the mist wafting around Privet Drive. They walked up to the house in a single, loose rank; confident, assured, their pointy-sticks raised threateningly. The fact that their faces and bodies were so obscured made them even more terrifying, vague shapes floating towards them, hungering to do unspeakable things to her. And above them, somewhere, hideous creatures were flying around in the sky, things that she couldn't even see, that she had to rely on her precious ever-so-special sister to tell her were there! The woman shivered in fear and loathing. All of a sudden, she could hear the voices of her sister and that rat-like boy from her freak-school upstairs. They cried out strange, arcane syllables, and the street erupted in flame.

With her own cry, Petunia spun away and shielded her eyes. She was vaguely aware that Miss Umbridge had returned, and was hustling her and Vernon up the stairs to join the others.

Outside, the Death Eaters (but one) deflected the volley of fireballs harmlessly off to their sides. However, it had achieved its true purpose, igniting the galaxy of 'bummer/downer balls' scattered all over the front lawn and street. Privet Drive began to fill with poisonous purple smoke.

They entered the master bedroom, where that Peter boy and Lily were standing at separate windows, fiercely waving their sticks and sending sparks of light down onto the street below. The boy even had two sticks in his hands that he used alternately. With a loud cry, a shining silver stag leaped from his stick and floated out into the sky and began dancing around through the clouds. Her parents were busily grabbing lamps, books, chairs, whatever they could lay their hands on, then rushing back to the windows to hurl them down on their besiegers.

"It worked!" Hyacinth cried in victory, seeing the putrid clouds of depression gather and sweep the Death Eaters into their embrace. "We got smoke on the water and fire in the sky, babe!"

"Rock on!" Richard agreed. They shared a triumphant snog.

Petunia couldn't restrain rolling her eyes in disgust. _Ugh, gag me with a spoon!_ Could her parents possibly get any more lame? Every time she thought they'd hit the limit, they would break on through to the other side.

"Petunia, Vernon! Bring me more furniture! Whatever you can carry," ordered Umbridge.

"Yes Miss Umbridge!" she squeaked, scrambling away to grab a chair from her own room. Carrying it back into the master bedroom, she placed it down where the woman indicated. With another wave of her stick and incantation, the chair shuddered once, then morphed into a golden eagle! Petunia leaped backwards instinctively. The bird screamed viciously, then launched itself out of the window and down onto the Death Eaters.

"More!" demanded Dolores.

"Why are they after us?" Petunia wailed, dropping another chair in front of the witch. This one was transformed into a gigantic, hideous bat, which also flew out the window in a beeline to their attackers.

"They're terrorists, it's what they do," explained Umbridge. "Like with the Troubles over in Ireland. This lot are kinda like the magical equivalent of the IRA. Trying to kill people and overthrow the government and all that rot."

"Frankly, I'm surprised they haven't targeted your family sooner!" called Peter, eyes fixed firmly on the battle below.

"What do you mean!? What have _we_ ever done to them?"

"Nothing – they're just evil bastards! Lily's pretty famous in our world; plenty of blood purists would be keen to take down the first muggleborn Head Girl of Hogwarts in history!"

So this was all Lily's fault! She should have known!

Petunia took a moment to compare the redheaded harpy who was slinging flashes of light and thunder to the older woman who was busily transfiguring yet another chair into some other horrible abomination to unleash upon their enemies. The conclusion was inescapable: Lily Evans was no more than a troublemaking pathetic excuse for a person, even by her own freakish standards. She certainly couldn't hold a candle to a _real_ freak – er, witch, like Dolores 'Hermione' Umbridge.

In spite of the grimness of the situation – _Ha! laughed the Grim, good one!_ – Harry couldn't help noticing the worshipful looks Petunia kept directing at his old friend. He shot Hermione a grin. "I think dear Aunt Petunia has a crush of _someone_ ," he teased in an undertone.

"Figures," Hermione grumbled, casting a surreptitious eye at the woman. "Dolores Umbridge is _exactly_ the sort of person Petunia Dursley _would_ look up to."

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"Let me down!" Vernon demanded.

"Pardon?" Harry spared a glance from his window to the afro'd businessman who was shifting about impatiently.

"You can … you know, get me down to the ground … out there," he waved his hand vaguely out the opposite window, through which they could see a group of Death Eaters massing at the back door of the house. The black-clad figures waved their wands as one, and all the wooden slats tore themselves off the nearby fences, piling themselves neatly into a bonfire at the front of the house. One of them started to cast _Incendio_.

"Shite, they're trying to burn out us!"

"Yes – which is why I need to get down there without the freaks seeing me."

Harry eyed him for a moment.

 _If he wants to help, no sense stopping him, said the Otter sagely. It is his family too, you know._

 _Point, Harry conceded._

"Come on!" Harry dragged the burly man down the hall to the small balcony overlooking the narrow footpath between Number Four and Number Two. "Hold still!" Vernon shut his eyes tightly and stood rigid as a pole as Harry carefully levitated him from the balcony down onto the footpath below. The man shivered visibly once his feet touched the ground, then took a deep, steadying breath and was off like a shot into the darkness.

Vernon fixed his eyes on the group igniting the shambolic pile of wood at the back door of the house as he snuck through the hedgerow. Taking stock of the situation, he nearly fainted in relief. For one thing, there couldn't be more than four of them. For another, they looked like a group of bumbling new recruits. The leaders had to be round the front fighting the rest of the defenders. Vernon wasn't sure if these freaks were intentionally targeting the Evanses or if they'd decided to go after the lone carload of people in the area on a lark, but by St George, he was going to make sure they didn't survive such a fatal mistake. He pulled a heavy pistol out of his belt, and concealed it behind his leg and approached the group at a fast walk.

"What do we have here?" One of the freaks noticed as Vernon came within a few feet. "Another vict–"

The man raised the revolver and put a bullet into the freak's throat, silencing him forever. Two of the other freaks stared down at their bleeding comrade with identical looks of shock, this wasn't the way things were supposed to happen, people weren't supposed to fight back, no one was supposed to get hurt – well, no-one of importance, anyway.

The third cloaked figure whipped his wand out and shot two quick curses, Vernon retaliated by showing once again that accuracy was more important than speed in a gunfight, by putting his next bullet in the man's chest.

"Oh glarpb–" Vernon's third bullet shattered the next freak's jaw and his fourth entered right below the left eye.

The last Death Eater raised his wand with a trembling hand and died as Vernon's fifth and final bullet entered the man's chest and shredded his heart. From start to finish, the fight had been over in less than six seconds.

"Bloody hell!"

Vernon spun to engage the man behind him.

"Wait! It's me, Peter!" The figure threw back his black hood to reveal it was in fact the short, pudgy kid who'd levitated him down to the ground two minutes prior.

Vernon shoved the pistol back into his belt and clenched his hands to stop their shaking. "Is help going to come soon?" he asked after he managed to suppress his stomach's desire to empty itself.

The boy squinted in thought. "Hard to say. Speaking from experience though, help never arrives until well after all the action's over."

"Fan-bloody-tastic."

"Indeed," Harry gave a vicious smirk. "On the other hand, it also means the gloves can come off. In defence of his home and family, anything a man does is _nice and legal_ in our world."

Vernon felt a vicious smirk crawl haltingly across his own face. Maybe this freak-boy wasn't so bad after all.

"Will you two stop yapping and get a move on!" hissed another voice impatiently. The two men hurriedly raced to join Hermione, who was peeking around the corner of the house to firefight out front.

"Why are you two in those getups?" Vernon demanded, indicating the long black robes the two magic-users were sporting.

"Disguises of course," Hermione snapped. "Speaking of which," she twirled her wand and his favourite business-suit was melting away, and re-forming into an identical sinister black cloak.

"That was an anniversary present," he grumped.

"And whoever gave it to you can give you another one for the next anniversary," Hermione shot back. "That is, if you ever live to see it!"

That shut the great muggle up. Hermione waved her wand once more, casting the Bubble-Head Charm on the three of them.

"Now, if you're keen on reaching that milestone, you'll shut up and do what we say. And reload your pistol, for Morgana's sake!"

"To the max, daddy-o!" Harry agreed.

"Really getting into the colourful metaphors, aren't we?" Hermione smirked.

He shrugged. "My uncle was a huge ' _Starsky and Hutch_ ' fan."

"Really? I wouldn't've thought him the type."

"They threw freaky teens and black drug-pushers into prison. What wasn't there for him to like?"

"Right on," she conceded

"Oh no," Vernon groaned, "you're starting to sound like 'them' now."

His sourpussing was lost in the sound of tearing wood and shattering glass. The Snuggle-bunny leaped through Lily's bedroom window and dived from the second story into the ever-expanding cloud of thick, sickening smoke. Cries of terror and rage (and a few sobs of misery) emanated from within the dark mass. Two dark bodies were flung like ragdolls down the street. Another one was hurled into Number Three, smashing his way through Mrs Haberdeen's upper window.

"Now!" commanded Hermione, "while they're distracted!"

Throwing their black cowls over their heads, the trio trotted out from the side of Number Four in a wide arc to come up behind the Death Eaters and the choking clouds of despair. They dived behind the nearest parked car as a huge whoosh of flame exploded from within the clouds.

"Alas, poor Snuggle-bunny, I knew him well," lamented Harry.

"God save his soul," she replied piously.

"Yes; because nothing will save me from Lily once she realises her entire wardrobe's just gone up in flames," he said glumly.

"Hang on a tic," Vernon realised something. "If you two are out here, then who's up there sending down those freaky coloured lights?"

"That's not important right now," Hermione said dismissively. "What is important is that cloud of freaky-deaky despair is having an impact. Have you noticed their rate of spellfire has been decreasing over the past minute or two?"

"Yes, and the number of screams and moans and groans has been increasing."

"Which means now's the time. On my mark, unload everything you have into that mass; including bullets, Mr Dursley, capiche?" Hermione ordered.

Vernon nodded shakily, extracting his pistol and reloading as fast as his trembling hands would let him.

Harry took a deep breath, readying himself.

"Ready, boys? Good. On three. Three!"

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The house shuddered as the front door endured the pounding of a dozen Blasting Curses.

"Looks like the party's started downstairs" said Hermione.

Another shudder, and they could hear wood and brick shredding.

"We have to get down there and block them, or they'll get behind us."

Harry raced back into the room and took up his position beside Lily again.

"The two of us will cover you from up here!" the Head Girl growled. "You go ahead."

"Petunia, with me!" Hermione snapped, grabbing woman's hand (ignoring her blush) and dragging her downstairs. "The barricade looks like it's holding for now, but it likely won't withstand another couple of hits." They reached the kitchen and Hermione quickly turned on the stove. "Could you pass me that sauce pan?"

"This is no time for a snack!" Petunia barked, appalled.

"If you insist," Hermione agreed. "I'm still going to need that sauce pan."

"Fine," Petunia huffed. This was _not_ going the way she'd thought it would. This was just ... odd.

"Where are the big kitchen knives?"

"To the left ... the other left ... the other left ... the other other left … right, that's the one."

Hermione found the biggest knife she could and laid it out on the counter next to the stove. "Thanks," taking the saucepan from the muggle woman. "Pass me a bottle of oil, please?" She took it and dumped it into the sauce pan. "It's missing a certain something, isn't it?" She scratched his chin. "Sugar, please." The witch dumped the sugar into the pan and stirred it into the hot oil. "Do you have an fungicide or insecticide near to hand? Powdered is preferable. "

Petunia scrabbled through the cupboards, finally locating the box of fungicide. "What do you need this for?" Petunia asked, coming to the conclusion that the woman might have a trick or two up his sleeve.

"The sulphur content," Hermione replied, looking over the list of chemicals on the side of the box. "Perfect." She dumped the entirety of the contents into the pan and stirred it in. "Now we're ready. That reminds me." Turning to face Petunia, she waved her wand several times.

Petunia could feel sensations of cold liquid washing over her flesh. She shivered. "What … what have you done to me?" she quavered.

"I just made you invisible. The only unfair advantage in a fight is the one you don't have." Her head perked up. "The wards are beginning to crack. Stay back," she commanded.

"What?"

"Don't get close to the Death Eaters, it would be bad," Hermione explained. She quickly cast a Speed Enhancement Charm onto herself. It wouldn't last long, a mere minute, but hopefully that was all she needed it for.

"Why do you ..." The girl was interrupted by the front door flying off its hinges, the furniture barricade shattering into a million wood chips.

" _Aeolus!_ " A jet of scalding steam shot from the tip of Hermione's wand and filled the doorway. The cries of the first arrivals could be heard as any exposed skin was instantly scalded. The unexpected assault blunted their charge, the four men in black cloaks and white masks stumbled into each other and scattered across the room, rubbing their eyes desperately. The few seconds of pain and disorientation were all Hermione needed.

"Ready to die, mudblood scum?" the first Death Eater to recover screamed, a stream of drool dripping from the bottom of his mask.

Hermione tried and failed to think up something witty to say, choosing instead to let her actions speak for themselves. More specifically, the action of flinging the contents of a pot of hot oil, molten sugar and sulphur into the man's face. He howled in agony, flailing his limbs in a spastic manner not unlike the death throes of an Acromantula in the Forbidden Forest. Death Eater #2 got the pan hurled into his noggin and was distracted enough for Hermione to dash across the room, knife in hand. His hesitation got him four inches of steel in the kidney. Death Eater #3 got four himself as Hermione banished the knife into his throat at point-blank range. Death Eater #4, the first through the door (and thus the poor sod who'd taken the brunt of the super-hot steam), was still flailing blindly when his skull was caved in by a floating saucepan.

"Good job, Petunia," panted Hermione. Merlin, that speed charm took a lot out of one.

"Thanks," said The Invisible Girl weakly, dropping her pan on the floor next to Hermione's. "I can't believe I just did that …"

She was interrupted as the Snuggle-bunny hurled itself out of Lily's bedroom window and dropped down onto the remaining Death Eaters. She could only watch in stunned amazement at the mass of dark clouds, flashes of bright light spewing forth from it, more bolts of energy raining down from the defenders above, and several transfigured creatures (or what was left of them) snapping, biting and clawing at whoever was in reach.

Hermione hurriedly conjured a stone wall to replace the gaping gap that used to be the front door. She was almost finished, when the sound of a new volley outside reached her ears. "Down!" Abandoning her spell, she groped for Petunia's invisible hand, and threw the woman down to the ground, diving to follow her. The house shuddered once more, her newly-conjured stone wall shattered into pieces, and the two of them shielded their heads desperately.

Then all was quiet.

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"The … there's two of them now!" Petunia raised a trembling figure to point out the inexplicable and mind-bending fact that there were now two Peter Pettigrews standing in their living-room.

The two Pettigrews turned to each other and said together, "Wow, we're identical!"

"I dunno though, I think I'm still better-looking," said one, examining his reflection in the nearest mirror.

"The battle's over and done with," said Umbridge. "I saw the Aurors arrive and start mopping up. And I do mean that literally. Three of the bastards tried to disapparate away, but in their doped-up condition they goofed and splinched themselves all over Privet Drive." She grimaced. "It isn't pretty. I have to admit, Mr and Mrs Evans, your 'bummer balls' really saved our necks."

"'Downer balls'," Richard corrected.

"No, she had it a-okay the first time," Hyacinth contradicted.

"It doesn't matter what the stupid freakish things are called, this sort of thing shouldn't be happening to normal folk like us! None of it!" Petunia wailed.

"No, it shouldn't," one of the Peters agreed. "But we're not in Shouldntville anymore: welcome to Reality Check Tech; aka the School of Hard Knocks!"

"Fortunately for you," the other Peter explained, "we have a diploma from the School of Hard Knocks!"

"As well as a double-doctorate from the University of Life Experience," added the first Peter.

"Not to mention, three gold stars from the Kindergarten of Getting The Shite Kicked Out Of Us," the second Peter added. "Speaking of which …" he winced as the Queen of Hogwarts flounced into the room.

"Those sons of slime totally demolished my bedroom! If I ever get my hands on another Death Eater …" She clenched her fist threateningly. Turning to her parents, "Now that everything's over and done with, can you _pleeeeease_ take off my school uniforms?! It's going to take a week of scourgifying to get rid of the smell of ganga and old-person sweat, I just know it. And since that damn bunny went out in a blaze of glory, they're now the only clothes I own in all the world."

"I'm happy to write you an unlimited Gringotts bank draft so you can replace everything in your bedroom. And all your clothes and stuff," one of the Peters offered.

"Since the Snuggle-bunny was entirely your doing, that seems like a fair offer, Peter …" her voice trailed off as she spotted the two Pettigrews. She gave them a hard look. "You're from the future," Lily said flatly. Her right hand unconsciously raised and gripped her shirt between her breasts.

"Guilty," one of them grinned.

"Or from the past," the other pointed out. "Gets hard to keep track after a while."

"Where is it?"

"Where's what?" Butter wouldn't melt in their mouths.

"You know. It," she growled.

"Oooh, _that_ It." One of them fished out a time tuner from the back pocket of his black robe. He flourished it for a moment, gold and silver components sparkling in the mood lights, before tucking it away again.

"For crying out loud! Is _everybody_ in the whole bloody UK playing around with time turners!?" Lily demanded of the heavens, hands raised dramatically towards the ceiling. "There happen to be _anyone else_ around here who's toying with time turners?"

"Toying with Time Turners – that sounds like a great title for another of Lockhart's books," one Peter whispered to the other.

Lily whirled to face her family. "How 'bout you, Tuney? Or you, Mum? Got any top-secret illegal time machines hidden away somewhere? What about you, Dad? Hiding something in that afro of yours, Vernon? Anybody want to bloody come forward? Now's the time!"

There was a flash of red light, and Lily's eyes rolled into the back of her head. Her fall was invisibly arrested though, and her body floated over to settle on the nearest couch.

"I think that's enough histrionics for one evening," said a second Umbridge primly as she entered the room, wand brandished. "We have 15 Death Eater corpses out there, versus none on our side. That's a win no matter in who's book. DMLE crime-scene investigators are going over the battlefield and fixing the wreckage. Obliviators are inbound. I managed to convince them all that there's no need to come inside the house; 'interrogating a group of muggles, what possible scrap of useful information could they be expected to provide?'" she imitated Umbridge's trademark simpering cadence. "And since you're all immediate family of a muggleborn Hogwarts student, you won't be getting your memories erased."

Petunia felt her jaw drop. This woman had done what she had heretofore believed utterly impossible – she'd silenced Princess Lily while she was winding up into one of her titanic, tornadic, three-hour-ranting BF's! And so off-handedly, too! Was there anything Hermione Umbridge couldn't do?!

"What's the story on the Dementors?" the first Umbridge asked.

"Nobody knows. Thicknesse says all the Ministry ones are accounted for. Working theory is that they're a clutch of wild Dementors that the Death Eaters captured and set loose on us, to soften us up for the main attack. The Ministry will send people out to round them up and lock them away in Azkaban. Oh, when Lily wakes up, tell her that Pius will have the DMLE revoke that warning for underage magic she received earlier this evening. Clearest case of self-defence they've ever seen."

"Fun as this has all been, I think that's our cue to leave," said one of the Peters. Moving to the unconscious redhead on the couch, he grasped the golden chain around her neck and gently extracted her time turner. One of the Umbridges joined him and he slung the chain around both of them.

"One turn should do it, I think," offered the second Peter.

"Gotcha, my uglier twin. Cheerio!" And with that, the Pettigrew and Umbridge doppelgängers vanished with a whizz, a flash and a pop.

"… see you on the flip side," mumbled Richard weakly.

Unperturbed by the numb condition of his muggle associates, the remaining Peter strolled over to Lily, still sprawled out on the couch. Removing the time turner he'd shown them previously from his robe pocket once more, he slipped it around Lily's neck, tucking it firmly under her blouse.

"Now that everything's settled, I think it's time to put Miss Lily to bed; that's been more than enough excitement for one day, wouldn't you agree?" said Dolores, flicking her wand to levitate the unconscious girl to her bedroom. Hyacinth trotted off after them to supervise.

Harry turned to the remaining Evanses and Dursley. "I think our victory tonight entitles us to a bit of cheer. Feel like a wee dram?" he asked cheerfully. Taking the shaky nods as a yes, he walked over to the drinks cabinet and selected a scotch at random, bringing it to the table where Petunia was setting out glasses.

There was a long silence while the party sipped their drinks and tried to come to terms with the events of the evening. Hermione and Hyacinth returned, and wordlessly accepted glasses of their own.

"So," Vernon said slowly, nursing his scotch, "these jokers are some of the people you've been fighting?"

"Yes," Harry nodded.

"And you're gonna keep on fighting them?"

"Until every last one of them is gone," Hermione said firmly.

"You'll be killing more people?"

"Yes unfortunately," she said ruefully. "There's a war on. That's usually how it goes."

"More of your kind or normal folks?"

"Ours," Harry said. "The freakish sort."

"Wait right here," Vernon placed his glass onto the table and put his arm carefully around his girlfriend, leading Petunia out of the room.

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The couple returned around 20 minutes later, a small wooden box clutched in Vernon's hands. "Take a look at this, boy."

"What is it?" Harry asked, setting it onto the table and opening it cautiously. He recognised the heavy pistol that Vernon had used on the Death Eaters outside. It had been carefully cleaned and re-stored.

"It's the pistol my grandfather carried in the Great War," Vernon replied quietly. "And passed down to my father to fight in his War. Been all around the world."

"What," Harry looked down at the big revolver. "Why are you showing us this?"

"My father was an officer in the Army," Vernon ignored the question. "And did some important work with the Special Air Services after the War. He finally retired in the 1960's as a Major. He kept his old pistol and gave it to me before he passed away. I was going to give it to my son when he arrives ... never thought I'd be putting it to use myself."

"You mean …?"

"Pet and I have talked it through. We want in."

"Eh?!" Harry and Hermione shared a startled look. "Why?"

"Why? I've just been attacked by a group of freakish pyromaniac terrorists! I've had to watch my girlfriend cower in terror at things she can't even see! And you ask me why?" Vernon's eyes flashed dangerously. "There are freaks you people need to kill – we'll help you to do it."

"Er, while we appreciate the offer, I'm not sure if there's much that two people …"

"I have mates," Vernon cut him off. "People who'd be honoured to lift a fist to keep our streets safe and protect the decency of the little folk. Folk who are just trying to get by and live their lives without waving a wand to get around doing a bit of honest work." He began to tick off his fingers. "My rugby team; my cricket team; my football team; friends from the office; the local RSL ..."

Harry looked around helplessly. Richard and Hyacinth seemed worried but resigned. Petunia was mooning at an uncomfortable Hermione, with eyes shining like those of Wellington's boys after the victory at Waterloo.

"I can't abide the idea that those 'things' are running around loose. This sort of thing may be acceptable in Ireland, but this is England, by St George! This sort of thing _is not acceptable_ here! You say you're going to kill some freaks then we'll help – just don't let any live that you could have killed, kill them all if you can. Don't show any mercy, don't let a single one survive that you could have killed! If it makes you feel any better, tell yourself that it ensures that they can never hurt another person again."

Harry looked to Hermione again for guidance.

"We're not going to win this war by using tickling charms and canary creams," she shrugged.

"Very well," Harry agreed. "Since I'm in school with Lily most of the time, it'll be up to Madame Umbridge here to coordinate your activities with those of our allies," he shot her an evil smirk. "Round up anyone you think is reliable. In the meantime, the first step is to get this house warded so those 'things' can't get in ever again. They're kind of like forcefields from those science fiction movies." He extracted a parchment and quill, quickly scribbling out a message and verifying it with his Black House Ring. "Mrs Evans, does Lily have an owl?"

"Hm?" the woman snapped out of her reverie. "Oh yes, let me show you."

"Thankyou. I'm going to mail my Account Manager immediately and arrange for his associates to ward this place to hell and back. You … ah … you all may want to be out of the house for the next week or two while they're doing it. You probably don't want to see what sort of 'freakish' things they'll be performing here." He looked back to Hyacinth. "Apolline mentioned that she gave Lily a portkey to her village in France so that your family could visit her. Did Lily say anything about that?"

"Oh yes," Hyacinth gestured towards the small white statue of a rearing three-headed horse with bat-wings sitting on the mantlepiece. "That far-out tchotchke."

"Then I strongly recommend you take her up on her offer."

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	18. 16 A Princedom by the Sea

**Author's Note:**

This is both a HP reworking of "Back to the Future" themes, and a soft reboot/reworking of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" and other things written by Rorschach's Blot. Used with the permission of their original authors (except for "Back to the Future" of course). The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter or anything else. Full disclaimer in the Table of Contents.

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Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.

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Canon-compliant. HP&DH compliant (except the Epilogue). HP&CC compliant (except the conclusion). FB&WTFT compliant. Pottermore compliant (mostly).

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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "Sum of Their Parts" by Holdmybeer.

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Question of the Week: Who was your biggest frenemy growing up?

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 **Chapter 16 – A Princedom by the Sea**

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O, that t'were not in religion sin, to make our love a god and worship it!

'Tis not (I know) my lust, but 'tis my Fate that leads me on.

– ' _Tis Pity She's a Whore_

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Jean-Sébastien Delacour arrived at his château and went straight to the games room to find the light of his life. "Apolline, it seems your English friends have decided to take you up on your offer to stay here over the Christmas Break." He waved a newly-delivered owl message.

"Is Pierre coming?" Apolline demanded. "Well?"

"Your Lily and her family will be arriving tomorrow. As for your Pierre, well, that remains to be seen," the man replied.

"What does that mean?" Apolline demanded with a fierce pout on her face.

"If you love something let, it go," he said. It took all the man's will power not to smile at how adorable his daughter looked. "If it comes back, then it was meant to be."

"So?"

"So it is his decision whether or not to come," he explained, "do you understand?"

"So when my Pierre comes to me, it was meant to be!" Apolline squealed. "Our love is Destiny!"

"That's not quite ..." he tried to say to the girl's retreating back. "Oh well," he shrugged, and went to find his wife.

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Lily and Hyacinth Evans strolled along the path through the rolling vineyards, marvelling with wide eyes the endless rolling hills of grapes, lavender and olives. Smelling the fresh scents of flower and vine and earth and sea.

The Mistress of the House, Lady Amarante Delacour, led them sedately towards the large, four-storey Château Delacour that rose like creamy gem amidst the waves of green. Beyond it, the Atlantic Ocean rolled and swelled. A small path led down from the ground floor to a small private beach of white sand.

"You have such a funkadelic crib, Madame Delacour," Hyacinth gushed. She had gone all-out to look presentable to their hosts, even going so far as to dig up her squarest clothing from the attic. She was wearing her most normal floral dress and dreamcatcher-earring-and-necklace ensemble. If Amarante noticed anything outlandish about her attire, she was too polite to say anything about it.

"You are too kind, Madame Evans. Eet eez so nice zat you could pay us a visit, even if only for a fortnight. When weel your 'usband and other daughter be arriving?"

"Ah, I'm afraid they had to bounce. Prior commitments and all that, heavy stuff," Hyacinth said nervously.

Lily rolled her eyes. _More like Petunia threw the mother of all BF's._ Her sister had put her foot down, refusing absolutely to go holiday in a house belonging to a bunch of freaks, frog freaks to make it worse! Not after another bunch of freaks had come within a whisker of burning down their own house and murdering them all, thankyou very much. Richard had played the peacemaker as usual, and taken her and Vernon to a bed-n-breakfast at Dover for the remainder of the Christmas vacation. Lily was more than pleased to be rid of the pests.

"Eez zat so? Nevertheless, I am pleased zat you two at least were able to make it. Eet eez so rare for Apolline to have visitors come to reside with us. Usually she goes to the Riviere or to Spain wiz her schoolfriends." She leaned in to whisper conspiratorially. "Zis time zough, she 'as been too wild and carefree, and 'er father 'as grounded 'er. She is pro'ibited to leave ze château grounds until school starts again."

"What did she do, Madame?" Lily perked up, always keen for another scrap of juicy gossip.

"A little trifle," Amarante's hand swished airily. "She ran off to Eengland without telling anyone, in order to 'ave a romantic winter fling with 'er knight in shining armour."

"Figures," the girl grumbled. "Everything seems to revolve around that pest these days."

"Lily, your manners!" Hyacinth scolded, scandalised.

"Where is the little minx, anyway?" wondered Lily, ignoring her mother. "It's not like her to be wallflower."

But Amarante merely laughed. "You are most perceptive about my daughter's personality, Miss Evans. Adorable, but sometimes strong-'eaded, no?"

"That's one way of putting it," Lily conceded.

"Eet eez ze afternoon already – why don't you go wake 'er up?" Amarante said kindly.

"She's still asleep?!" Lily demanded. Her conscientious nature could not conceive of such idleness.

"But yes, it is ze 'oliday time; one often sees 'er only at meal times," Apolline's mother stirred the pot further. "I am so glad zat she now 'as a good friend to give 'er a reason to get out of bed. 'Er room is on ze second floor on ze right."

"Yes ma'am, thankyou," Lily said politely. She scampered down the driveway, through the great arched doorway, up the stairs and into what could only be Apolline's wing of the château – pink and silver frills, gold grandfather clock, gilt picture frames, china plates mounted on the wall. Yep. Throwing open the door, she hopped on the four-poster bed.

"What are you doing 'ere, Eeenglishwoman?" the inhabitant of said bed demanded grumpily. "And why 'ave you woken me before noon? I need my sleep or I may get ze little wrinkles around ze eyes."

"It's past noon already, you indolent Frog," Lily chirped happily. "Time to get up and experience the world."

"Zere eez no point in zat just yet. My Pierre 'as not yet arrived," the French girl retorted, shifting around to find a comfortable position in which to resume her slumber.

"And why do you care about that?"

"Because," the Veela explained in a slow, patient way that one may use for a disobedient yet naïve puppy, "Papa 'as said zat we may wed."

"Really?" Lily asked suspiciously, sure that Apolline's father would have given no such permission to his 13-year old only daughter. "What if I take Peter from you while you're snoozing your life away?" she challenged breezily.

"Destiny will not allow it," Apolline said haughtily, "but per'aps I shall allow you to see 'im for a bit when 'e eez 'ere."

"Oh really?"

"Per'aps," Apolline agreed, "if I am feeling generous. Do not zink zat just because you are a fellow creature of fire, zat I would simply roll over without a fight. You would know better zan any 'ow possessive we are."

"What are you talking about? I'm a human!"

"Do not play ze _bouffon_ with me. You zink I weel not recognise another being of fire when I see 'er? No matter, you shall not supplant me as number one."

"Oh? How's that?" Lily asked coldly.

"You _are_ getting on in years, I don't need to tell you. I doubt Pierre would want to spend much time around such an old maid whose _poitrines_ are starting to sag to ze floor."

"Why you little!" Lily sprang up and chased the giggling bane of her existence out of the room with murder in mind.

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Jean-Sébastien arrived home and immediately went on guard as his finely-honed danger senses informed him that there was something wrong. It was quiet, too quiet.

"Welcome back, my love," his wife said happily, "how was your trip?"

"Did our visitors arrive?" Jean-Sébastien demanded, resisting the urge to allow his paranoia to take control.

"But yes. Several hours ago."

"And _where_ are Apolline and our English visitors?"

"Hyacinth is exploring the vineyards. Apolline has locked herself in the guest house and Lily is laying siege," Amarante replied absently.

"What!? I thought you said you would arrange things?"

"Of course I did," Amarante replied without looking up from her newspaper, "I've managed to make our daughter understand that Pierre will have a much happier household if his wife and mistress get along with each other. She agreed, but insisted that his mistress first be taught a lesson in decorum and her proper place in the hierarchy. Lily did not take her attempts at 'instruction' well."

"What?" he asked dully. "That's not what I meant!"

"It isn't?" she asked with false surprise. "Silly me." She flipped a page. "Nothing to do now but sit back and watch the situation develop."

"But –"

"Apolline is in a stubborn mood so I doubt she will listen to you. You could always try forbidding her," Amarante said hopefully, knowing that would only push their daughter further.

"Or I could try something that might work," he retorted.

"Like what?" she asked skeptically.

"I am going to have a calm conversation with her," he said, "our daughter is an intelligent girl after all."

"True." On the other hand, she was also stubborn and competitive. "Good luck, my love."

"It would have been better if you hadn't encouraged her," Jean-Sébastien sighed, not anxious to face his Fate.

"Me?" Amarante asked innocently, butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. "Would I encourage a situation like this for my own amusement?"

"Yes, you would," he said sourly.

"True," she agreed, "but it is not as if the poor boy would mistreat either of them is it?"

"From what I've heard, he's a fairly decent sort."

"And he is resistant to Apolline's Veela allure is he not?"

"So I've been told," he agreed.

"And is it possible that he will attempt to run away after we tell him the situation?" Amarante asked. "Providing much opportunity for wacky hijinks?"

"It's possible," he agreed reluctantly.

"There you go then," she said with a satisfied smile, "you see? I am right once again."

Jean-Sébastien stormed outside to the guest house, past Lily's barricade, a couple of quick spells overcame the charms that Apolline had used to bolster her defences and her father walked in and grabbed her. "You two are friends, you should be supporting each other, not bickering like this!"

"I am merely trying to 'elp an old Eeenglish cow become 'alf as beautiful and desirable as a young French beauty like myself," Apolline interjected, causing Lily to growl in annoyance and assuring that the fires of competition would not die any time soon.

He took several deep breaths. "Not acceptable. Now then, I am going to leave zis 'ouse and you 'ad better have zis all worked out by the time I get back."

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"So Apolline tells me that you gave her permission to wed her saviour?" Lady Delacour asked, scratching her corgi's belly.

"I'm sure that is what she heard me say, my love," Lord Delacour said glibly.

"So what shall we do if young Pierre arrives?"

"I was planning to watch the fun," he replied, "maybe give the poor boy a safe place to hide on his visit ... this all assumes that Apolline does something about her crush rather than spend the whole time blushing and giggling."

"Apolline is Veela," his wife said arrogantly, "she will not spend Pierre's entire visit blushing and giggling. There will also be the looks from afar and the sighing."

"To be young again," he said wistfully.

"All awkward and knobby kneed," Amarante pointed out.

"You're right my love," he agreed, "let the youth suffer while we watch."

"And laugh."

"Of course."

"Kiss me?"

"Of course."

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Jean-Sébastien started his day by watching his daughter blur past, his English houseguest in hot pursuit. "Amarante," he called out.

"Yes, my love?"

"Why eez Lily blue?"

"Apolline decided to do some decorating during ze night when Lily could not resist."

"Ah."

"Aren't you going to do something?"

"Aren't you?"

"This is much too gas to put a stop to," Hyacinth Evans said with a lazy grin.

"We'll let zem run zemselves to exhaustion, zen I'll punish zem by having zem work ze vineyards or something," added Amarante.

"Set zem to cleaning ze stables without zeir wands," he suggested, "zat was one of my mother's favourites ... built quite a bit of character."

"We do not 'ave any 'orses my love," his wife pointed out.

"Ze stables were left dirty," he said with a grin, "and 'aven't been cleaned in nearly 20 years."

"Do tell."

"And when zey're done I'll refill ze stables," he continued, "so zat zey can keep learning 'ow to clean stables over and over again."

"Not to mention ze fact zat Apolline adores 'orses," Amarante said slyly, "and zis will allow you to be a 'ero to her."

"Lily adored her horse-riding lessons when she was a wee emery," Hyacinth mused.

"Not to mention ze fact zat she will soon realise zat fresh 'ay will be another place to 'ave her little rendez-vouses with young Pierre when 'e arrives," Amarante added.

"Zank Merlin zat Apolline is too young for zat sort of zing," her husband laughed.

"Tell zat to 'er," his wife said with an impish smile, "assuming she works up ze courage to even zink about it."

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"Did you hear the latest news my darling?" Apolline's mother asked.

"What is it, Amarante?" he asked with a sigh.

"Apolline has explained to me why she thinks young Pierre will need a mistress."

"Oh?"

"She says that Pierre is too masculine for one woman," she replied with a smile, "I pointed out that _you_ did not need a mistress."

"What did she say?"

"That you were old and infirm and that it was a wonder that having a Veela wife did not kill you."

"I'm not that old!" he protested, "am I?"

"You have a daughter that's nearly fully grown," his wife pointed out, "and that is talking of marriage."

"I'm still in the prime of my life!" he said stubbornly, "I am."

"Whatever you say, dear."

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Jean-Sébastien came to dinner that evening and was surprised to find one less girl at the table then there should have been. "Where is Lily?" he asked. Hyacinth and Amarante merely smirked.

"She's all tied up at ze moment," Apolline said airily.

"Being busy is no excuse to skip a meal," he protested, "go get her, Apolline."

"She won't be able to come," Apolline said with an upraised chin, "as she is 'aving to diet. She weel be skipping dinner and possibly breakfast and lunch also."

"And just why does she need to go on a diet?"

"She is getting on in years and beginning to gain weight" Apolline said imperiously, "and I for one am glad to see zat she has realised zat."

With a sigh, he rose from the table and walked up the stairs to his charge's room. "Miss Evans, answer me." He knocked on the door and opened it after a few moments with no answer.

"Mumph," Lily replied. She was tied to the frame of her bed and gagged with what appeared to be an old sock.

"Why can't you two girls just get along?" he sighed as he cut Lily loose. "Is zat too much to ask for? A little peace and quiet."

"I think that is a very reasonable request Monsieur Delacour," Lily said with a dazzling smile.

"So ..."

"Yes," Lily agreed, "I am going to chain Apolline up in the dungeon until she realises the error of her ways." Lily stormed out of the room and towards the dinner table.

"Zat's not what I meant!" he protested. They arrived at the table to find that Apolline had disappeared along with half the bread that had previously adorned the table. Hyacinth and Amarante were desperately struggling to restrain their laughter.

"I suppose you zink zis is funny?" he asked the two women sourly.

"I think it's wonderful that my daughter has taken to mentoring a younger chick," giggled Hyacinth, "and one who is so to the bone, to boot!"

"I zink zat zis is a good lesson on why doors 'ave locks," Amarante added her two knuts, "one zat Miss Evans is better learning now zen later." She turned to address the fuming English girl. "I believe zat Apolline eez 'iding in ze wine cellar if you would like to go speak with 'er."

"Thank you, Madame," Lily said calmly as she strolled out of the room.

"Is she really?" Jean-Sébastien asked.

"So far as I know," Amarante replied.

"Why must you encourage them?"

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Harry shook off the effects of Apolline's portkey and looked around. He shivered, the Atlantic air was significantly colder than it was in London. In the distance, he could see a crescent shaped harbor filled with what he presumed were fishing boats.

"Where am I?" Harry muttered to himself.

"Bretagne," a feminine voice replied.

"What?" Harry spun around.

"You are in Bretagne, north-western France," she repeated. "'Ow did you get 'ere without knowing where you were?"

"It's a long story," Harry sighed.

"Does it 'ave something to do with using strange portkeys?" she asked suspiciously. "What kind of trouble are you in zat you'd do something stupid like zat?"

"It was given to me by a friend," Harry said with a shrug.

"Oh." She relaxed a hair. "So you're not in any trouble …?"

"I do have a group of people out to kill me," Harry admitted, "but other than that, no."

"What kind of people are trying to kill you?" she demanded.

"Death Eaters," Harry replied, "they're a group of purebloods in the UK that dress up in stupid costumes."

"I've 'eard of zose peegs," she said dryly. "Evangéline Arsenault," she introduced herself, "Magical Gendarme for zis Département."

"Peter Pettigrew," Harry said politely.

"Come on zen, Monsieur Pettigrew from ze UK," she said, "I'll buy you lunch."

"Thanks!" Wow, five minutes in France and already the local constabulary were treating him far better than the British Aurors had in nine years!

The French Auror watched Harry put away his meal like he hadn't eaten in weeks. "Good?" she asked.

"Sorry," Harry said with a blush, "I don't normally eat this well, and I've been training hard every day."

"Don't worry about it," she advised, "just shows zat you're a growing boy."

"Thanks."

"And don't worry about ze Death Eaters," she continued, "if you see one, just tell me and I'll clap zem in irons."

"Really?"

"Cross my 'eart."

"Oh . . . well, in that case there are three of them sitting in that booth over there. I was going to wait until after they did something, but since you offered . . ."

"Really?" she asked in shock. "Three of zem?"

"Yep," Harry agreed. "Looks like a Travers, an Avery and a Nott. Hmmm that sounds like the beginning of one of Ron's jokes. That aside, all three of them together in a foreign country? Under a privacy shield? Yep, definitely Death Eaters and definitely up to no good."

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to give me a 'and with zem then, would you?" she asked, intensely curious about this strange teenager.

"If you like," Harry agreed. "Oh no," he said in a louder voice, "I seem to have dropped my spoon." He knelt down and crawled around on hands and knees to get a clear beeline on the other booth. Faster than she could track it, Pettigrew's wand appeared in his hand and shot three stunning spells at the unsuspecting Death Eaters. They slumped down into their bowls of fish soup. "All yours, Officer Arsenault."

"How ze 'ell did you do zat?"

Harry shrugged. "Suppose the fact that it's normally _them_ doing the ambushing and _me_ reacting might have something to do with it too. Nice to be on the other side of it for once, really boosts my confidence to know that they should have had me in the ground a long time ago."

"Oui," she said with an odd look on her face. "Ever zink of becoming a law enforcement officer in Bretagne? Good hours, decent pay, all ze fish you can buy from ze fishermen ..."

"Can't say I have," Harry said, "but I will."

"Good, because I'm allowed to 'ave two more deputies zan I've got now and it'd be nice to 'ave someone competent for a change."

"How many do you have now?"

"Just ze one," she replied, "and Clouseau isn't ze sort to be mentioned in ze same sentence as ze word 'competent.' Not unless it 'as an 'in' preceding it, anyway."

"That name sounds familiar," Harry said, frowning.

"No doubt. 'Is whole family are in law enforcement, and zeir name is a byword for blundering on both sides of ze Channel."

"I'll think about it," he promised. "Can't be worse than working for the British Auror Department and I'd bet it'd be a whole lot better."

"Zat's ze spirit!" she cheered.

"It'll have to be after Voldemort is gone though," he said regretfully. "Can't see it working out until I don't have a Dark Lord trying to kill me. At least I think he's trying to kill me. I'd sure try if I were a Dark Lord."

"Mentioning zat you 'ave a Dark Lord out to kill you isn't normally ze sort of zing you mention in a job interview," Arsenault advised, "so you know."

"I'll remember that," he laughed, "and on that note, could you possibly direct me to the Delacours' residence please?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Ze Delacours?"

"Yes."

"In zat case, zere eez someone you will need to meet."

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Harry looked around and marvelled at the stone buildings. It appeared as if the entire town had remained unchanged for hundreds of years.

"Why don't you take a seat?" the pleasant voice of his guide asked. "'Ave some cheese, maybe a bit of wine, and we can get zings settled."

"Thank you, Monsieur ..."

"Inspector Charles LaRousse Dreyfus," the burly man replied.

"Peter Pettigrew."

"May I ask why you decided to visit our fair town?"

"Sight-seeing," Harry replied, "and to visit my friends. What's the name of this town anyway?"

"You do not know?"

"When I asked the one who gave it to me, she merely smirked and said it should not matter as long as she was there," Harry explained.

The man laughed. "We are in a small magical village called Trieux, in Bretagne."

"Trieux. I'll remember."

"And now, Mr Pettigrew, if you'd be so kind as to explain what business you 'ave with ze Delacour family?" Dreyfus demanded, cutting down to the brass tacks, the civility dropped from his face.

"Like I said," Harry said in confusion, "I just wanted to say hi to my friends."

"Are zey aware zat you are coming to visit?"

"Should be," Harry agreed.

"What are zeir names from youngest to eldest?"

"I only know Apolline," Harry admitted.

"From where?"

"Hogwarts."

"Wait here," Dreyfus ordered, "have some cheese, drink some wine. Do not make any sudden movements, draw your wand, or try to leave."

"Okay," the incredibly confused Harry agreed. He honestly didn't understand why the man had suddenly changed his tune, maybe pureblood bigotry was an even larger problem here than back home.

"My apologies, sir," the Inspector said with a courteous smile as he walked back to the table. "I'm sure you will understand zat women as lovely as ze Delacours are sometimes ze victims of unwanted attention."

"And you were looking out for them," Harry said in understanding, "I understand. Thanks for keeping my friends safe."

"Eet eez both an 'onour and a pleasure," he replied, "Lady Delacour is coming to get you. She insisted on escorting you back to ze château 'erself, and I am afraid zat I could not turn down such a charming woman's request."

"Did you say château?" Harry demanded.

"But yes. You did not know?"

"No. Suppose I should've guessed though, she did say she was nobility. I look forward to the Lady's arrival, it'll be nice to have some company for the trip."

"An excellent attitude," he agreed, "are you enjoying ze food?"

"It's wonderful," Harry gushed, "what kind of cheese is this? I've never had anything like it."

"Zat, my young friend, eez Ty Pavez. Eet eez made with seaweed and aged in seawater. By law it can only be made in zis area."

"Wow." Harry sampled another bite.

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Amarante walked into the sitting room and motioned for her daughter to take a seat. "I have some important news for you."

"What is it, Maman?" Apolline asked.

"What have you been waiting for all holidays?"

"You mean ... Pierre is coming?"

"He is here," Amarante said happily, "our dear friend Inspector Charles is with him right now."

"Yes!" Apolline shrieked. "He arrives at the exact moment the old maid and her mother are out of town – it truly _is_ Destiny! I must change, and do my hair, and ..."

"I am going to get him," Amarante said calmly, "while you get yourself ready."

"Yes Maman," came the distant voice. She smiled as her daughter dashed off to her room in a panic, ah to be young again.

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As they rode to the Delacours' château, Apolline's mother gave Harry a smile that immediately set his danger senses to maximum. "I zink I should warn you about something before we get to my 'ome," Amarante said calmly.

"Warn me about what?"

"I'm not sure it's my place to tell you," she demurred.

"Oh ... alright then."

"But I zink I must," she said, annoyed at his lack of reaction.

"If you must," Harry agreed. "What is it?"

"My daughter and Miss Evans 'ave been fighting all week over which one will be your wife and which one your mistress," the stunning Veela Lady replied with a sultry grin. "Such a lucky boy you are, no?"

"No," Harry agreed, "I gotta get out of here!"

"But you 'ave already agreed to stay with us," protested the woman with a pout. It would not do to allow the boy to escape and thus avert the fun. "Are you breaking zat promise?"

"No." Harry slumped. "I'm not breaking my promise."

"Excellent," Amarante purred, "so good to know that you are a man of your word."

The second Harry walked through the front door he found himself under assault. Apolline attached herself to his left side and began chattering in French too rapid to understand.

"May I borrow 'im for a few moments my child?" Amarante smiled at Apolline's suspicious glare. "I promise you zat I 'ave no designs on his body." She led him up the stairs and to one of the bedrooms. "Zis is where you will stay while you're 'ere. Your Lily eez currently sightseeing in ze next town over wiz her Maman, but zey will be back in two days. Her room is across ze 'all and Apolline eez on your right."

"Oh ... thank you."

"If I were you, I'd research some 'efty locking and privacy charms before going to sleep tonight." She laughed in delight. "Or some silencing charms if you don't want to learn the other two, I suppose." Oh, the look on his face, he was as amusing as she hoped he would be! "Come along Pierre, we 'ad better get back downstairs before my daughter comes to zink zat I'm having my wicked way with you."

"Uh ..." To be quite frank, Harry wasn't sure how to respond to that statement.

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Harry hollered in delight as they air whistled past his face. It had been so very long since he'd been able to let loose on a broom. Pettigrew didn't own one and wasn't on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, so he'd had little opportunity. And given how busy he seemed to be all the time, hadn't paid it much thought, until he'd seen the cupboard full of top-of-the-line racing brooms in the drawing room.

The Delacours were more than happy for him to borrow it. Apparently Lily was not much interested in flying, so that left it to him to demonstrate the broom-related prowess of the English race to his hosts.

From her bedroom window, Apolline watched as the tiny speck that was Peter Pettigrew dived almost vertically for 500 metres, pulled out only seconds away from the ground, and twirled away in a series of death-defying aileron rolls, before rocketing back up into the clear blue yonder.

She grinned to herself. "Flame and air."

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After much cajoling, wheedling, whining, bargaining, tears and silent treatment, Apolline finally convinced her parents to allow her and Harry to Floo to the Paris magical district to visit the local Gringotts branch. The fact that neither would reveal the purpose of their journey did not help her case, however the threat of facing a week-long magical tantrum from the 60-inch tall Veela eventually caused them to fold and reluctantly allow it. Not without many admonishments to be careful and be back before 6pm or else the Aurors would be unleashed to turn Paris upside down, if necessary.

"Alright mon amour," she stated, dragging him away from the public Floo station and down the main magical thoroughfare, "now we are away from all ze nosy noses who are always trying to stickybeak into our affairs. Now you can tell me what eez ze purpose of our secret mission."

"Alight," he surreptitiously raised a privacy shield around them so that passers-by could not eavesdrop. _Ah, having an untraceable wand is the greatest! I can't believe I never tried to get one the first time I was in Hogwarts._ Apolline looked immensely gratified that he was using one of his Veela-hair wands, the core a hair that she had rather forcibly donated to him for that purpose.

"There's three main reasons to go to Gringotts. You remember the plan to set up our own newspaper to tell everyone the truth about Voldemort's muggle background, and what's really going on with the war?"

"Oui."

"To do that we need four things: we've got Odd's family's old printing press set up in the basement of the Shrieking Shack, that's one. We need staff; Odd's got the editor stuff under wraps and we have a half dozen house elves and a Ministry flunky to sneak and spy and ferret out news for us. That's two. We need the addresses of people in the magical public, so we know who to deliver to; I have an idea of how to get that, but it'll have to wait until term starts. That's three. And finally, we need supplies: paper, ink, replacement parts for when the equipment wears out, and so on. That sort of thing won't be cheap. From what Xeno tells me, presses consume huge quantities of stuff. And once we get started, the Death Eaters and the Ministry are certain to come down on us like a ton of bricks, so we can't just go out to store and buy what we need."

So intent was he on their discussion that he didn't realise his wily partner had deftly steered him off the main street and towards the river. They were now strolling arm-in-arm along a tree-lined boulevard next to the Seine.

"So the best way to remain anonymous it is to set up a Post box and hire a goblin to manage the purchasing, owl deliveries, and the rest of the details for us. And a goblin from the Paris branch is even better, since it gives it an extra bit of distance from us. It'll be pricey, but if it prevents us from being dragged off by the Aurors for sedition, it's gold well spent."

"And what eez ze other reason?"

"I want to arrange for the homes of my friends to be properly warded, and their families given emergency escape portkeys. You've heard about Lily's place no doubt?"

"She said you snuck into 'er private rooms in order to view 'er charms. And zen you and a gang of uncouth goblins drove 'er and 'er family out of their 'ome, forcing 'er to endure living with me for ze rest of the Yule Break. She was most put out."

He grinned. "Sounds like something she'd say."

"And I am most put out zat you have been in my 'ome for a whole day and 'ave yet to sneak into _my_ private rooms in order to view _my_ charms."

"Uh … yes, well … anyway, the fact of the matter is that I was able to walk straight into her room without any difficulty. What if I'd been a gang of Death Eaters out to make the world a more mudblood-free place? I don't want any of my friends to be in that position. In addition, the stronger your wards, the less the Ministry is able to interfere in your personal affairs. That's probably one of the underlying reasons why decent warding is such an expensive undertaking. Not many can afford a proper job, not strong enough to withstand a group of determined psychopaths. And the only organisation that has the resources to set them up on such a scale is the goblin nation."

"I understand. It is truly a noble zing to do on be'alf of your friends. What about ze third reason?"

Harry sighed. He really didn't want to discuss this with a 13 year old, but he knew she'd never let it go. Nor would she allow him to enter Gringotts alone, so he couldn't think of any way to keep it from her without causing mortal offense. "The main problem we face in this war is that there's way more of them than us. Voldie's got lots of followers who have gold, connections and political power. Who do we have? A dozen students at most."

"What about your Ministry? Ze Aurors? Your 'Eadmaster and 'is acolytes?"

"The Ministry keeps using the state of emergency to accumulate more and more power in Bagnold's and her attack-dog Crouch's hands. I wouldn't trust them as far as I could banish them in peacetime, let alone when there's a civil war in progress. Far too easy to make 'difficult' people vanish. Not to mention the Ministry and Wizengamot are probably full of moles. Dumbledore and his lot are useless. Well, perhaps that's a bit unfair … I'm sure they're trying very hard, but what exactly have they achieved? I haven't the faintest idea. That's what happens when you put an academic in charge of a war effort." Apolline gave a Gallic half nod-shrug, which could have meant anything. Harry continued, "So in short, we're stuck between a group of well-meaning no-hopers and a fascist state apparatus."

"So what do we do? You know you and your friends are welcome to come live at Château Delacour if zings get too dangerous. We 'ave more than enough spare rooms. I am sure magical France would grant you asylum."

"Thank you Apolline," he smiled gratefully. "I hope we'll never need to, but we may have to take you up on that offer sometime in the future. In answer to your question, I've decided to take a leaf out of Orion and Cynus' book: hire a ton of hitwizards to take care of our enemies. Much less difficult and life-threatening than doing it yourself. I'm going to make it a condition of the contract that they have to be as subtle as possible when carrying out the hits. Make them look like accidents or freak occurrences. Hopefully then the rest of the targets will be less inclined to flee, hide away or hire their own troops."

"How many of zese hitwizards are you planning to employ?"

"Umm, all of them, I think."

"You are … an eenteresting person, Pierre. You do not flinch at ze loss of life?"

"There's an old muggle saying, Apolline: war isn't dying for your cause, it's making the other poor bastard die for his. I don't like it, but if the choice is between getting rid of them, or standing by while they rape and murder countless innocents … there's no choice to be made. Besides," he sighed, "I already have a lot of blood on my hands. What's a bit more? If some more darkness in my soul is the price to ensure that thousands of others never have to raise a wand in fear or revenge, then I'll happily give up my innocence for that."

She was silent for a time. "Do not worry yourself, my 'eart," she said finally, squeezing his arm in reassurance. "Even eef you fall into darkness, I will be right 'ere to fill you up wiz light again. As many times as you need."

Harry could feel tears gathering in the corners of his eyes at the simple, heartfelt declaration. "Merci," he managed. She smiled prettily but said nothing more, merely guiding him to a chair of an outdoor café and sitting him down. A few rapid words of French to the waitress, and soon a pot of hot tea and a tray of strawberries and lightly toasted croissants was put before them. Harry took a moment to look around. The place bore an ominous similarity to Madame Puddifoot's in Hogsmeade: flowers, sparkles and unicorn designs abounded, though fortunately there were no stuffed animals.

"Tell me about zese people," Apolline commanded gently, as she buttered her croissant with quick dainty strokes.

"The highest priority are the Malfoys. Because they're very rich, and the Dark Lord having access to their wealth and political heft is very bad for us. And because Pandora is Lord Malfoy's niece which brings me into the line of succession, in the event of their demise." He sighed ruefully. His attempts to back out of their betrothal contract had proved a complete failure, and the one week waiting period after signing had elapsed, making them bona fide de jure man-and-wife. He wondered if she'd want to go through the motions of a proper formal wedding. Her future daughter had opted for a full Druidic rite, complete with mistletoe wreaths, dolmen circles and all the participants and audience naked. "I have a list Pandora and Odd put together for me. It's basically every single Malfoy of the main and cadet lines, except for the Lovegoods and the Fitzhallibut-Malfoys."

"And none of zem are worth saving?"

"I asked them that. According to them, they're not even worth hanging onto as raw material for experiments," Harry grimaced. "Anyway, once the Malfoys are out of the picture, then the troops can start on our second list." He took a bite of his croissant, marvelling at how it could be so crisp and yet melt in his mouth.

Apolline raised a finely-sculptured eyebrow. "And who are zese?"

"Marked Death Eaters, Voldie sympathisers, blood purist scum, etc."

"Show me zis leest," she commanded.

"Uh, that's really not necessary for you to see …"

"I will examine, and add any names zat you 'ave missed," Apolline said firmly.

"But …"

"My Papa is a high-ranking member of ze national security bureau 'ere," she sniffed imperiously. "I hear many little snippets zat 'e zinks I do not know. I hear of ze names of some of ze English blood purists who cause us Veela grief. And zere are many such peegs 'ere in France as well, to my eternal shame. It would be doing a great service to our civilisation were zey to be eradicated like ze belly-crawling flobberworms zat zey are!"

In that moment Harry saw not a lovestruck young girl in the flower of her life, but a creature of flame and air: cunning and ruthless and _inhuman_. Wordlessly, he handed the list over.

"Zis is extensive. But zere are some zings I can add." There was silence except for the scribbling of her quill. She paused a number of times to recall memories, tapping her quill adorably against her aquiline nose. Finally, "I am done. Come along, we shall make 'aste to Gringotts and settle our business. Zen we shall take a ride on ze Bateaux Mouches and forget about such unpleasantness and remember zat the world is still full of laughter and 'appiness!"

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Jean-Sébastien waved for Harry to join him upon their return from Paris. Curious, the 'Boy-Who-Lived-In-Another-Time-And-Place' followed him into the man's study. "Pierre," Jean-Sébastien said with a grave look on his face, "zere's somezing I need to tell you. I wouldn't share zis information with just anyone you understand," he began, "it's just zat I like you and I feel a certain responsibility for your welfare."

"And ..." Harry was starting to get nervous. Now that his errand was completed, he just wanted a nice relaxing week in the French countryside. Why did these problems keep cropping up all the time?

"Well ... I just." The Frenchman sighed. "I just don't zink you realise what you're getting into here." He looked around nervously. "Has anyone ever told you about Veela mating rituals?"

"No." But just the very sound of the word 'ritual' was starting to raise the fine hairs on his arms.

Jean-Sébastien felt a bit guilty for what he was about to do, sure he liked the kid but he wasn't sure he wanted Pettigrew to impregnate both his daughter and the visitor he was chaperoning before the holidays were out! Their unsupervised jaunt into Paris today was the final straw. Yes, today it was visiting a bank together. Tomorrow they may go out for lunch in the local village together. And then it would be down the slippery slope: dinners, dancing, romantic nights watching the lights on the Seine, overnight stays at hotels, and so on and so on until … well, here they were. Desperate times called for desperate measures. Maybe he'd pay a visit to the boy in a few months and tell him that it was all a joke, it wasn't his fault things had turned out this way. He'd been sure that Apolline wouldn't be able to muster the courage to string more than two words together in Harry's presence. How wrong he had been on that count. "You've got to promise zat what I tell you never leaves zis room and I'll give you ze warning that no one ever gave me ..."

Listening to their discussion through one of the many listening charms she'd littered the château with, Amarante shook her head in disappointment, then walked over to the drawing room where her daughter was plotting her next 'romantic outing' with her intended, causing her to look up guiltily. "Don't mind me," her mother said, "I just thought you'd want to know something."

"What is it, Maman?"

"I don't think your father took your outing today in good spirit. He has taken Pierre away and filled his head with some nonsense about Veela eating a ... personal part of the body after copulation," she replied. "Said it was why he only had one child."

"Pierre didn't fall for it, did he?" Apolline asked sickly.

"Your Papa is the Directeur of the Service de Documentation Extérieure et de Contre-Espionnage," Amarante reminded her daughter. "He is adept at manufacturing evidence, it has been part of his profession for several decades."

"So Pierre thinks that I will harm him and is escaping into the night." Apolline moaned. Her voice hardened. "Release the hounds! And the bees!"

"Little one," Amarante chided gently, "will the hounds and bees find Pierre, or will they find him and kill him?"

"Chain up the hounds!" her daughter's voice called out loudly. "And corral the bees! _Merde alors!_ "

"Language!" her mother scolded, but Apolline was already gone. It was the matter of moments to divine the trail the two men had left behind.

Harry and Jean-Sébastien ran through the extensive vineyards that surrounded the Delacour estates. Dusk was starting to fall, but there was still just enough light for them to find their way. "Wait, mon chévalier!" Apolline's voice called out. The two men looked back to see their pursuer gaining ground. "I must explain!"

"We're not going to make it," Harry panted.

"Run, boy!" Jean-Sébastien shouted, "It's too late for me, I'll hold 'er off!" Harry didn't need to be told twice and was gone in a flash.

"Papa," Apolline asked tearfully, "how could you?"

"Honey, I ..." he stowed his wand, reached out to hug her, and was hit by Apolline's stunner and everything went black.

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Lily and Hyacinth returned from their sightseeing trip tanned, relaxed and with many magical photos of the gardens, vineyards, dryad reserves, ancient Roman ruins and magical shopping districts that the region boasted. Fingering the lilies that a flirtatious dryad had braided into her hair, Lily looked around for her sometime-friend-sometime-nemesis and her family. The place was eerily silent.

Finally, they decided to check the basement … and froze, jaws dropping. Jean-Sébastien was strapped to a large table.

"Ladies," he called out, "I can explain." A loud 'wooshing' sound from above caused him to look up and his eyes bulged in shock as he saw a large bladed pendulum swinging back and fourth over his midsection. A grim-faced Apolline manned the switch. An amused Amarante sat in the corner, watching the fun and sipping from a glass of red wine. "Uh ... Apolline," her father called out in English, "can we talk about zis?"

"Where is Pierre?" Apolline demanded.

"I don't know," he replied.

"Wrong answer," Apolline growled, and cranked the switch to lower it more.

"Would it help to tell you zat I'm sorry?" he asked as the blade dropped another foot.

"No."

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	19. 17 Diplomacy

**Author's Note:**

This is a continuation/soft reboot of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse, with a bunch of changes. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" by Rorschach's Blot. Both are used with the permission of their original authors. The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter or anything else.

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Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.

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Canon-compliant. HP&DH compliant (except the Epilogue). HP&CC compliant (except the conclusion). FB&WTFT compliant. Pottermore compliant (mostly).

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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "Larceny, Lechery and Luna Lovegood!" by Rorschach's Blot.

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Question of the Week: Ever wonder why Harry or anybody else never bothered to go back to the Chamber of Secrets to discover its secrets? (Besides the giant hulk of a snake!)

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 **Chapter 17 – Diplomacy**

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If you spill the beans, you open up a whole can of worms. I mean, how can you let sleeping dogs lie if you let the cat out of the bag? Bring in a new broom and if you're not very careful you find you've thrown the baby out with the bathwater. If you change horses in the middle of the stream, next thing you know you're up the creek without a paddle. And then the balloon goes up. They hit you for six. An own goal, in fact.

– _Yes, Prime Minister_

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"Hi Hermione," Harry greeted one his oldest friends. It was still gut-punching to see her in such a state, trapped in the form of their deadly, toadlike enemy, but for the sake of their decade-long, war-tried, us-against-the-world, loving friendship, he tried manfully to look past such trivialities. He was sure their bonds would see them through this, their darkest hour yet. "Thanks for meeting me here."

They were standing outside the Shrieking Shack. It was faster to access the Chamber of Secrets going through secret tunnel into Hogwarts and then through the girls' bathroom on the second floor, than trekking all the way through the Forbidden Forest to the external entrance.

"Still," Harry mused, "there _is_ something to be said for the scenic route. We've had a lot of adventures in the Forest. So many fond memories."

"Fond memories?" Hermione eyed him oddly, as they trotted briskly through the secret tunnel. "What are you talking about, Harry? Did that French Veela suck out your mind along with everything else?"

"Gaah!" Harry shuddered, trying manfully to purge that disastrous trip from his memory. "Please," he said in a pained tone. "I'd rather not talk about France _or_ Veela right now. Or Ever."

Now Hermione was really concerned for her friend. "Harry, you're turning green! What the heck happened to you?"

"Anyway," Harry said brusquely, "how can you say there's no fond memories. What about our visit to Grawp? Don't tell me you've forgotten about him already, _Hermy_ , you heartless witch?"

"Prat," she punched his shoulder. "Don't ever call me that!"

"What, a heartless witch? Very well, your wish is my command, my dear Hermy. Ouch!" He rubbed his shoulder. "Getting a bit violent in your old age, eh Herms? Owgnfrb!" He bent down to cradle his bruised shin. It was painful, but at least he'd successfully distracted her.

Hermione primly stepped over him into the halls of Hogwarts. They disillusioned themselves and made their way silently through the empty corridors, careful to avoid the ghosts. Finally they reached the entrance in the second-floor girls' bathroom and slid down the chute.

"Filthy," she commented disdainfully, scourgifying her robes several times.

"Well it _is_ a thousand years' worth of grime. Don't worry, it gets better in the main chamber. Kreacher and Ron did a pretty good job of clearing out all the dust and mould. _§Open!§_ " he hissed to the giant serpent gate. With a responsive hiss it rolled to the side, giving them access. The torches attached to the walls simultaneously burst into flames at their approach, lighting the Chamber with a harsh glow.

Hermione's eyes widened as she saw the main Chamber of Secrets in all its glory for the first time. Taking in the blindingly orange walls, floor and ceiling, Chudley Cannons posters and banners adorning the walls, beige and brown furniture, faux-marble statues of cavorting nymphs, and of course, the hordes of petrified students in his 'collection' (frozen in poses that cowered in terror or were about to unleash rage-fuelled hexes) arranged tastefully to give the impression of a silent garden party. Or public art piece.

"You know, I used to have nightmares about this place," she said slowly, head rotating to absorb it all. "I'd wake up screaming every night that whole summer break after second year … But now I see that the reality is far far more horrific than I ever imagined."

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"Are we all set?" Harry asked. Hermione triple-checked their equipment and nodded decisively. "Alright, let's get this hippogriff-and-unicorn show on the road."

Taking out a vial of mandrake Restorative Draft (extra concentrated)™, Hermione forced a few drops through the frozen lips of the three young men in front of them. Seventh-year Slytherins Rudolphus Lestrange, Amycus Carrow and Cyrillus Selwyn gradually relaxed their stiff pose, slowly sliding down to the ground into limp pools of misery. Presently, colour returned to their cheeks, the wooziness wore off and they groaned and stretched. With a few flicks of her wand, they were levitated and tied securely to three uncomfortable and shoddily-conjured wooden chairs.

Eventually they retained the wherewithal to look around and try to determine their location. They appeared to be in some sort of cave. Before them was an empty desk, with the only source of light emanating from a flickering candle in a golden holder. The weak light provided visibility only for a few feet in either direction. Their eyes widened in recognition as they noticed Harry, seated next to a businesslike woman who strongly resembled the product of a union betwixt human and amphibian.

"Hello Rudy, Amy, Selly, I can call you that, can't I?" Harry asked cheerfully. "Welcome back to the world of the living. Sadly, I can't in all honesty say we've missed you."

"What do you think you're doing, you half-blood filth?" Selwyn spat at Harry, finally finding his voice. With a vicious lurch, he tried to drive himself forward towards the object of his hatred. An object who continued to recline placidly, indifferent to their words and their ineffectual struggles to free themselves from their bonds. "You think gnome sputum such as yourselves can get away with kidnapping us like this? We're Heads of Ancient and Noble Houses – the Wizengamot will hack off your limbs and feed you to the Dementors within a day, and the Dark Lord will eviscerate whatever they leave behind!"

"Terrifying," Hermione replied dryly. They had agreed beforehand that she would take the lead in these 'negotiations'. "As to what we're doing, we're here to discuss your ransom of course. I admit to a certain level of presumption by assuming that you _do_ wish to get out of this black prison of despair sometime within the next century or two?" She paused for a response. Taking their murderous silence as an affirmation, she nodded in satisfaction and laid out three stacks of documents on the desk in front of her. "I have before me three contracts. Each of you is going to sign one. I don't care which. According to my digging, your families are about equally wealthy, so it doesn't matter to me in the slightest."

Rudolphus and Carrow remained silent. Selwyn growled, a low rumble that would've made Padfoot proud.

"Perhaps you're wondering what they're about? It's a funny story, you know – there I was at Gringotts in Paris, about to sign off on some rather large and important projects, when suddenly inspiration struck," Harry snapped his fingers dramatically. "I remembered what those 'Missing' posters in Diagon and The Daily Prophet said. Oh yes," he replied to their expressions, "your families have been very diligent in searching for you these past few weeks. I daresay all of wizarding Europe could recognise your ugly mugs. So touching," he wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. "Anyway, the posters informed me of an interesting fact – that among the missing students were three 17 year old Heads of families. Which means they can authorise major financial transactions, fully backed by their Houses' assets. After all, why should I spend my own Houses' gold to pay for the war when I have a few Lords in my 'collection' who can pay it for me? I'm sure you understand what I'm getting at."

"Not going to happen," Rudolphus rasped, speaking for the first time. But his gaze was locked onto Hermione. "I recognise you, Dolores Umbridge. D-level Ministry flunky, no power, no connections and no patron. Only a defunct Wizengamot seat with no Head. Set us free right now and I'll forget you had anything to do with this. Snap that halfblood's wand for me and I'll even make you my client."

"A fascinating offer, but ultimately irrelevant to your current predicament," Hermione replied sweetly. "Since your inbred-rotten brains are having trouble grasping the situation, I'll spell it out: we are currently a mile underneath Hogwarts. Nobody knows you're here; nobody can hear you scream. The Hogwarts wards do not penetrate to this depth. It's currently Christmas Break and the castle is empty – the four of us are the sum total of its population. At present, your only two options are as follows: sign the documents with the proper magical intent, or we leave you here to feed our pet giant basilisk, and maybe your families will find a piece or two of your remains in her leavings in a decade or seven from now. You do remember Sallie don't you?"

Her grin was almost feral; an expression Harry remembered seeing only on very special occasions. Like plotting her revenge on Skeeter during the Triwizard. Seeing it on Umbridge's sickly-sweet features was downright unnerving.

"You're bluffing," Carrow blustered, but they could see the first hints of uncertainty starting to trickle in. "You don't have the guts to murder people."

"How fortunate for us then that there are no people in front of me – only rabid dogs who deserve nothing better than to be put down. As painfully as possible," she drawled, in a tone so icy that Harry shivered. He almost expected frost to start gathering over his skin. It apparently had a similar effect on their interlocutors, at least to judge from their rapidly paling visages.

"And what guarantee do we have that you won't simply murder us as soon as the ink is dry?" Rudolphus sneered.

"You're hardly in a position to bargain, Rudy, but if you insist on being difficult," she gave a long-suffering sigh, "My confederate and I will both swear a magical oath that upon signing, we will release you from this cave and not kill you or cast any spells upon you, say for the next 24 hours. Good enough? Well, it doesn't really matter if it's good enough or not, as that's the only offer that's going onto the table. So take it or leave it."

A long silence followed. The glares and struggles of their captives matched by the calm façade of their jailers. Selwyn, Carrow and Lestrange seemed to keep alternating between contemptuous defiance and gnawing dread, as the severity of their situation began to truly sink in.

"Better make your decision sharpish," Hermione commented idly. "Sounds like Sallie is getting restless." They froze; in the darkness something quietly shifted around.

"Why don't we bring her out and give her a sniff of your scents," Harry suggested. "To provide proper motivation. _§Ssssallie! Close your eyessss and come over here. Take a whiff of your prey! I need you to ssscare them a bit.§_ " Their captives flinched at the sound of Parseltongue, but then froze in horror as the gigantic snake quietly slithered into view. All in all, it was an impressive imitation of their former, petrified state. Selwyn began to whimper softly as Sallie's forked tongue delicately explored their faces.

"All right all right, we'll do it, Khorne curse you!" howled Rudolphus. "Let us go and we'll sign whatever Merlin-be-damned contracts you want!"

"Excellent," cheered Harry. "We knew you'd see reason! _§Please wait further back in the cave for a bit, my dear. There are a few little things left to take care of.§_ "

 _§Very well,§_ the basilisk groused, _§But my stomach rumbles.§_

The three pureblood Lords sighed in relief as the snake slipped back into the darkness. "We demand our wands back too!" Selwyn asserted.

Harry shrugged. "Sorry. The DMLE confiscated them after you went missing. Evidence you know," he lied, making a well-what-can-you-do? gesture. "I'm sure such fine, upstanding and well-connected gentlemen of means such as yourselves would be able to persuade the Aurors to release your property in due course."

After sharing another silent conversation, Rudolphus turned back to them. "Deal!" he snarled. "But you'll both be feeling the _Crucio_ from my wand for this! I'm going to take great pleasure slowly stripping the flesh from your bones before I deliver you to my Master."

"I look forward to it," Harry stood and took half a dozen steps to the left, giving himself a good range of fire over the group, while putting himself well out of reach of any sudden punch or tackle. Pulling out his wand he made the requisite magical oath. Hermione did likewise. He then dispelled the Slytherins' restraints. "Now, if you'd be so kind…"

Hermione, who had remained seated, laid out a blood quill next to the contracts. Grumbling words whose indecipherability was probably for the best for all concerned, the three cautiously approached and began to skim through the contents for several minutes. Eventually they all signed in the appropriate places. A sudden flash and a pulse of magic, soundless thunder. The edges of the pages turned a glowing gold colour, signifying a validly formed contract, backed by magic. Hermione nodded in satisfaction.

"Congratulations, House Selwyn is now the proud patron of wizarding Europe's newest newspaper, The Quibbler, the new vanguard of British anti-Purist journalism. Non-profit of course, so I wouldn't recommend expecting returns on your investment anytime soon, though any awards received will of course be dedicated to your memory – I mean, in your honour. House Carrow is funding the upgrading of wards and issuance of emergency portkeys around the country, particularly to underprivileged muggleborn and their families. And House Lestrange is now the generous funder of numerous special services on behalf of House Malfoy, for the betterment of all magical society. Again, a non-profit venture, but one I think we can all agree is galleons well spent."

 _§Open!§_ Harry hissed, amused to see them jump in fright once more. The dark tunnel was abruptly flooded with light as the entrance to the Forbidden Forest opened. "There's your exit gentlemen, a pleasure doing business with you." The gentlemen in question wasted no time, bolting away in an awkward, staggering gait as their atrophied limbs slowly awoke from their convalescence.

The friends waited for a minute or two, enjoying the silence and the fresh breeze wafting in from the forest. Presently Hermione offered, "You do realise that as soon as the new Heads of the Lestrange, Carrow and Selwyn Houses realise that their former Lords have contracted to spend huge sums of galleons, they'll immediately cancel the contracts, right?

"Yep. Which is why Apolline made sure the contracts included a clause allowing the goblins to draw the entire cost in one lump sum and deposit it in escrow vaults on the day of signing. All expenses will be paid out from those vaults instead of the family vaults."

Hermione nodded. "Removing it from the control of the Heads. And if the Houses try to cancel the agreements, the goblins will no doubt stonewall them as long as possible. Say, until the terms of the contracts have been completed and there isn't a knut remaining in those vaults?"

"No doubt."

"How much are we talking exactly?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know, didn't bother looking at the figures. I told the goblins to inflate the numbers as much as they liked. Their percentage is fixed, so it's in their interest to cost things as high as possible. Plus there's a rider that says, in the event that carrying out the terms of the agreements costs more than the initial lump sums, the goblins are authorised to top up the escrow vaults from the family vaults as often as necessary. So probably a few million galleons or thereabouts?"

"So you've just bankrupted three of the Sacred Twenty-eight families."

"Who can say?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and dropped the subject. Casting a quick _Tempus_ , she noted, "It's been over ten minutes since they left. Long enough?"

"More than sporting," Harry agreed. _§Ssssallie!§_ he called to the basilisk. _§The sun is setting, you're free to go outside now. Happy hunting!§_ The enormous creature didn't need to be told twice. Moving with surprising stealth for something so huge, she shot out of the entrance of the cave in search of her prey.

"Kreacher!" The elf popped into existence in front of Hermione. "Could you please deliver these contracts to the goblin Kakarot at Gringotts, Paris branch? And then return this quill to the hidden compartment under my desk at the Ministry?"

"Kreacher understands Missy Bridge!" And with a snap of his fingers, he was gone again.

"Good work today, Hermy," Harry praised. "Damn that was a sight to behold – you were such a stone cold bitch I thought my own blood was going to freeze! I'd rather fight the fifty foot basilisk again than have _you_ out for my hide."

"Thank you Harry," Hermione replied absently, as she banished the table, chairs and ropes. "And if you don't want to find out firsthand what that's like, I'd advise you to never call me Hermy again."

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"Hello everyone, thankyou for taking the time to attend our first official meeting," Hermione began, a trifle nervously. She'd always hated speaking in front of crowds. Which was why she'd strongarmed Harry into leading the DA last time around. Unfortunately, he'd flat out refused on this occasion, saying that since she was going to be the leader of this little militia-to-be, she would have to step up to the plate from the get-go, or else never gain her troops' respect.

"As many of you may know, my name is Dolores Umbridge; I've been worming my way up the ranks of the Ministry under the guise of a raging Purist of the most odious sort. Now that I'm up a sufficient way along the greasy pole, I feel it's time to remove the mask and do something to actually benefit our society and our next generation."

There was a light smattering of polite applause from around the room. She'd hired out the upstairs meeting room of the Hog's Head for this little shindig. Far too subversive a meeting to risk having anywhere near Diagon Alley. And, Merlin knows, Knockturn was probably infested with undercover Aurors, moles and random tattle-tales who'd sell anyone and anything out for two knuts. And then she'd proceeded to cast every single locking and privacy spell in her considerable repertoire, mindful of the breach in security last time she'd organised a meeting here.

Harry gave her a thumbs up from the back row. _Yeah yeah rub it in_ , she grumbled to herself, albeit not without affection. Her eyes swept across the gathered assortment of human pick-n-mix who had been sounded out and responded affirmatively to their discreet feelers. Chaoticus 'Bob' Lovegood, who'd already helped them out immensely with sabotaging The Daily Prophet; Marximus McKinnon, Harry's lawyer and the father of his fellow-HA members, and his assistants, Mandy and Sally; Marximus' lawyer, Murdia Temujin, hard-nosed 'corporate killer' of the legal world; Dirk Murray of Ghostbusters, who was apprenticing Harry in Merlin-knows-what creepy magics; his master, Necromancer Aleister Dee; Jim from the Diagon Gym; Auror Jenny; Nurse Joy; Jacob, some clerk Harry had befriended; Snidely Whizzpopper, a semi-legal Knockturn wand-maker that Harry had sorta-befriended; Tom the proprietor of the Leaky Cauldron; various butchers from the Butchers' Guild, necromancers from the Necromancers' Guild, and various members of the Ministry public sector guild, including a dozen of her own colleagues that were unimpressed with the lack of results the Ministry was achieving in its fight against the Death Eaters. Sitting nervously in a corner, trying to make themselves as inconspicuous as possible, were Vernon Dursley and Petunia Evans.

"In a nutshell, what I am proposing is a magical equivalent of what muggles call a 'Neighbourhood Watch': local citizens band together to protect their streets and keep their friends and families safe from those who threaten them. This idea grew out of a group that was formed in Hogwarts by concerned students a couple of months ago, who decided to do something to combat the dangers that even they face during our current crisis. The group named themselves the 'Hogwarts Army', or HA for short, as its primary goal is to keep Hogwarts and its residents safe from harm. It has proved most effective in training students up to fight and protect their loved ones, guard the corridors, dorms and grounds of Hogwarts, organise emergency escape routes and portkeys, and prepare themselves for when, not if, the Death Eaters come knocking on the door. The HA operates as an independent auxiliary force supporting the faculty of the school, and to a lesser extent, Headmaster Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix, a top-secret anti-Death Eater organisation, so I'm sure you've all heard of it already."

There were a lot of nods around the room.

"The Order themselves operate as a kind of auxiliary militia to the Auror forces. I propose that we do the same thing – operate an auxiliary force to the HA, to coordinate with them and work towards common goals, such as the safety of our streets, the removal of threats and the protection of our loved ones. I recommend the establishment of the Hogsmeade Auxiliary to the Hogwarts Army."

"Create an auxiliary force to an auxiliary force to an auxiliary force to an auxiliary force? That's exactly the kind of out-of-the-box thinking that our world so desperately needs!" cried Bob enthusiastically.

"Thankyou for that vote of confidence, Bob," Hermione smiled.

"And what if we can't?" came a voice from near the back.

She frowned. "I beg your pardon?"

"What if it's all pointless – what if we can't win? If we're on the wrong side of history and everything we do is just throwing leaves in the wind against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's inevitable rule over this country?"

An uncomfortable rumble ran through the crowd. It was a reasonable question, perhaps an inevitable one for the people on the streets, who lived to the coalface and would inevitably be the feel any impacts immediately, with no cushioning to soften the blow.

"If we can't win," Hermione said slowly, "then we have nothing to lose, do we? I can only speak for myself, but I feel deep in my bones that it's better to go out on my feet, better to make sure the bastards never forgot what their victory had cost them, to make sure the surviving bastards never have a full night's sleep for the rest of their pathetic lives, for fear that there may still be members of the HAHA left in the world!"

She waited a minute or two for that to sink in.

Finally, into the silence, she added, "For those who do not wish to be a part of this, I perfectly understand and do not hold it against you. Please leave now. For those who wish to make a difference in our society, we need to draft up an agreed set of objectives, and organise a training regime, communications network, and so forth."

Surprisingly, nobody left. Hermione wondered if she had become used to low expectations from having to run organisations of schoolchildren. Or, and more soberingly, it could be because they felt they did indeed, have nothing left to lose at this point.

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Harry moved from the Leaky Cauldron into Umbridge's small but opulent estate for the remainder of the Christmas Break, under Hermione's strict orders ("it's Christm-us, not Christm-you, Harry"). He continued to visit Diagon Alley every day to train at the gym with Jim, hunt ghosts and learn necromancy with Dirk, and learn anatomy with Nurse Joy and the members of the Butchers' Guild. Hermione still had to go to work each day at the Ministry over this period, but in the evenings he would drag her over to Mandy's office for Occlumency training. If Mandy thought it strange that Harry was suddenly bringing along a known Ministry flunky and pureblood bigot for his sessions, she never said so out loud. Hermione's formidable mental discipline and self-organisation stood her in good stead, and she was matching Harry's skills before long. Afterwards, they would part ways, Mandy to her family, Hermione to her paperwork, and Harry to his mysterious tutor.

It was the day before Christmas Eve when the deaths began to hit the pages of The Daily Prophet. Across the length and breadth of Britain and France, members of the prominent Malfoy family started dropping like flies, in increasingly gruesome and improbable accidents.

"Looks like your Christmas present to Pandora has arrived," Hermione commented as they trimmed her tree and hung tinsel around the lintels under the careful supervision of her kneazles. "When does she and Xeno's family get back from the States?"

"Another week and a half," he replied, releasing the faeries to adorn the fireplace.

Rita Skeeter's column speculated that 16 year old Lucius Malfoy had left Hogwarts to adventure through the Middle East; while exploring lost tombs in Egypt, credible sources indicated that he'd unwittingly freed a succubus who'd demanded he take her as his bride; his refusal unleashing a terrible curse, that was now taking its toll on the rest of his family in revenge.

Sybil Trelawney wrote in her weekly column _Blue Balls of Prophecy_ , that the tea leaves and stars had been sending her messages for years that the convergence of Mars and Jupiter would one day initiate a purge of tainted bloodlines who pretended to be pure. She also added that one of the Department of Mysteries' blue prophecy orbs stated that only the wearing of her genuine Uranus-blessed protective amulets on your forehead could protect the wearer from suffering similar misfortune. Apparently sales of the amulets were brisk. And yet, day after day, the obituary columns continued to fill:

Xanthippus Malfoy choked to death trying to swallow a rudely shaped turnip.

Septimus Malfoy-Robards, resident potioneer of Hogsmeade, mistakenly mixed up his cologne with a vial of experimental troll pheromones, and was dragged screaming into the woods on his morning stroll near the Forbidden Forest.

Dianora Malfoy managed to hang herself with her own long lustrous hair while combing her blonde tresses.

Antares Malfoy-Sinistra, his wife and their five cousins disappeared off the coast in a freak yachting accident.

Nicholas Malfoy the alchemist turned to granite after taste-testing his latest attempt to re-create the Elixir of Life.

Septimus Ulric-Malfoy and his sister Cassiopea went on a muggle-baiting trip to the Football World Cup championship and were never seen again.

Xora Metella Malfoy and Queenie Avia Malfoy led a horse riding party through a hippogriff reserve, and were not amongst the five survivors.

Ebeneezer Malfoy tried to swim in a pool of galleons, but broke his neck diving off the high-dive into the hard mass of metal.

Marlowe Malfoy allegedly summoned a daemon to make a blood pact, but botched the ritual and was consumed.

Hestia Malfoy-Hesperia got into a blazing row with a traveller coming the opposite way on a remote mountain path, and was thrown over the side.

Armand Malfoy achieved spontaneous animagus transformation, transfiguring himself into a goose, which a muggle farmer unknowingly corralled into a gaggle destined to become foie gras.

And so on and so on.

At the same time, warders and curse-breakers employed by Gringotts began appearing all over Britain to beef up the ward protections around private homes. Families such as the Potter, Bones, Evans, Tonks, Weasley, Prewett, Diggory, Diggle, McKinnon, MacDonald, Lockhart, Longbottom, Pettigrew and Umbridge all received (thanks to an anonymous benefactor) heavy upgrades of existing ward structures (if any existed), and the addition of several extremely nasty new ones. Overlaid was the _Fidelius_. Homes were literally vanishing all over the country.

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Harry was sad to say goodbye to all his friends in London and return to the rat race of Hogwarts, but they cheered him by pointing out he could always owl them, and they would see each other in person in six months. He made arrangements to sneak out of Hogwarts on the weekends to continue his training with Jim, Dirk, Nurse Joy, the butchers and the unknown lady ("Miss X" as he'd taken to calling her) on Saturdays and Sundays.

On the first day of September, his potions order was finally completed and delivered. There was enough to last a whole year, along with a list of instructions as to dosages and timing. Harry packed them into his trunk with glee. _Goodbye short, fat, slow, pudgy body, hello chiselled Adonis!_ Hermione caught him posing in front of the mirror (to the mirror's vociferious objections) and tucked away a smile.

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"Howdy lads," Harry said jauntily, as he entered the train compartment housing the other three Marauders. A chorus of greetings came back at him, James's rather halfhearted. He didn't even bother looking up from his newspaper. _Morgana, that boy can hold a grudge_ , he thought. _You'd think I'd forced him to desecrate the grave of his dead mother or something! Was I that much of a moody git at that age?_

"Here you go, Belligerens Potter," Harry said sarcastically, as he dumped a stack of papers onto James' lap. "You can thank me later."

"What is this dragon dung?" James demanded, finally deigning to look up at Harry.

"I took the liberty of having my lawyers audit all of House Potter and House Black's accounts. These are the preliminary Potter results. You can thank me later. Here you go, Padfoot, one for you too." He dumped the second (much larger) stack of papers, pertaining to House Black, onto the lap of a dismayed Sirius.

"What in Merlin's name are we supposed to do with these!?" the Grim animagus demanded.

"Use them as toilet paper, duh," he replied sarcastically, ignoring the looks of horror and frantic gesturing of the Minister and her cronies in the official stamps embossed on the documents. "Go through them and learn the details back to front of course! Remember, as soon as you turn 17 the two of you'll become Heads of your families. That means you'll be responsible for running the lot! Luckily, we have hours before we reach Hogwarts. So get cracking 'coz those are only the summaries. Padfoot, you and me have a _lot_ to discuss, my friend; seems House Black has been involved with a lot of, shall we say questionable, business arrangements over the generations. There's over a hundred years of stuff to untangle."

Ignoring his sort-of-father and sort-of-uncle's ashen faces, he stood up and stretched. "Ah, I feel so much lighter now! Moony, would you care to accompany me to the snack cart?"

"Delighted, I'm sure," grinned Remus, standing as well. "We'll just leave Their Worshipfulnesses to their important business." Arm-in-arm they promenaded away.

The remaining Marauders shared a look of horror.

"I'm starting to have second thoughts about this Lordship business, Prongs," said Sirius sickly.

"Tell me about it. Dya think if we asked nicely, he'd hang onto those rings for a few more decades?"

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The Welcoming Feast was interrupted by the entrance of a parliament of Post owls, an unusual occurrence as owls rarely arrived in the Great Hall outside of the morning mail run. A proud eagle owl adorned with a golden neck ornament landed grandly in front of Harry. Harry unwrapped the message from its leg and held out a strip of bacon in thanks. Ignoring the offering, the bird took to flight and left. _Hmph, never thought_ _I'd see an_ _owl sneer_ _at me._ He held a scroll of parchment embossed with the Black family crest. Harry briefly read the missive, brow darkening. Quickly shoving it into his pocket, he began to think furiously. Suddenly he started as a bowl of stew appeared in front of him, complete with sparks and a soft bang.

"Whatever it is that's gnawing you, it'll feel better on a full stomach," Remus said mildly.

"Yes, you're right Moony," he sighed, "thanks for looking out for me." He made a token effort to fill his belly and interact with his fellows. Popping the cork off the first vial of his health potions, Harry dumped the contents into his pumpkin juice and drained it in one gulp, grimacing at the taste. Remus cocked an eye and Harry shrugged. James and Sirius didn't notice their interaction; both appeared to have recovered from their first foray into high finance and were hungrily consuming three times their bodyweight in pastries. "What, did James' parents starve you three over the Christmas Break?" he asked Remus lightly.

Their responses went over his head as his attention drifted, as it so often did during meals, to a certain redheaded Gryffindor sitting five paces down. Lily was neglecting her own dinner in favour of a letter clutched in her clawlike hands, face pale. Harry sighed. He could hazard a guess as to what it said. Dunking a hunk of bread to mop up the last remains of his stew (and rather surprised he'd finished the whole lot without noticing), he stood and made his way over to her. Painfully aware of the attention of a certain French Veela whose hawklike gaze followed him all the way from the Ravenclaw table. Bending down he whispered, "I have a pretty good idea of what's got you down, if you've just received the same news I have." She spun in place to eye him critically, holding the message carefully out of his sight. "Come on," he urged, "there's things we need to discuss."

"Get a grip, Pettigrew, we're in the middle of the Feast!"

"How could I have missed that I was interrupting your meal," he replied sarcastically, gesturing to the uneaten food on her plate.

Realising he was right, she grumbled, "This'd better be good, or I'm finding a nice, slimy, repulsive detention for you." Grabbing and apple and waving goodbye to an inquisitive Mary, Marlene and Alice, she followed him out of the Great Hall (Pettigrew carefully avoiding Apolline's imploring look) and up to the Astronomy Tower.

"Talk," she ordered.

"I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that that note's from 'Sevvie-pooh' telling you that he's withdrawn from Hogwarts permanently, says sorry for not telling you earlier, hopes to see you in the holidays, and all that rot." He could tell he'd hit bullseye when her eyes widened in shock. Before narrowing in suspicion. "The reason I know this," he continued hastily, "is because I just received this." Flourishing is own missive. "Go ahead," he offered.

Lily read through the archaic calligraphy. "Bellatrix and Regulus have also formally left Hogwarts," she said flatly. "And I'll bet a case of butterbeer that's not a coincidence."

Harry nodded. "They've most likely all been spirited away to shield them from whatever horrid vengeance the Blacks think I'm cooking up to retaliate for the so-called 'Battle of Hogwarts'. Very clever."

"How is it clever to throw away attending the premier school of magic in the world!?" she demanded hotly.

"Since when has Hogwarts been number one in the world?" He raised his hands to forestall her rising objections. "Yes yes I know people keep _saying_ that it is, but we're Brits, of course we're gonna say that. Have you ever seen a shred proof to justify that claim? But leaving that aside," he added, not wanting to get side-tracked into yet another argument with the feisty girl, "think about it from the Blacks' point of view: this way, Narcissa and Sirius stay here. They both like Hogwarts, have friends here and don't want to leave. Bellatrix and her 'Sevvie-buggins' go into hiding to get private tutoring somewhere. In Britain maybe, or somewhere on the Continent. And Regulus goes to Ilvermorny, to wait out the war in safety. Spread out far and wide. None of their eggs in the same basket. As I said, very clever. What happened to House Malfoy can't happen to them now." He took up the letter and waved it a bit. "And they didn't inform either of us until the first night back at Hogwarts, when it's too late for us to do anything about it. Also very clever."

"What about the rest of this? Why on earth would they tell you that this Cygnus and Druella –"

"Bella and Cissa's parents," Harry supplied.

"– have taken the Dark Mark? You could have them arrested with this!"

"Because they know I'm not going to turn them in. And because they want to let me know what they're up to."

"Which is?"

"Same thing as the school stuff. That House Black has positioned itself with a foot in every camp, so that they'll benefit regardless of which side wins this war. They have me, Sirius, Andromeda and Dorea, who are firmly in the Progressive camp. They've got Orion, Walburga, Bella and Regulus in the Traditionalist camp. And they've got Cygnus, Druella and probably the rest of the extended family as marked Death Eaters. Narcissa's a bit of a wild card, no telling to which side she'll jump to. Ah who am I kidding, the winning side of course! And there you have it: a group of Blacks in every camp, and spread out in three disparate locations. I'll have to send Walburga a congratulatory note."

"What appalling cynicism."

"Yes," he agreed. "We call it diplomacy."

"And you're okay with all this?!"

He shrugged. "They're gonna do what they're gonna do. We've had this conversation before remember? Even though I'm their Lord, I can't actually force them to do anything, just like I can't force _you_ to do anything. Parents are free to send their children to whatever magical schools they wish. But the Dark Marks do give me a good excuse to have the goblins evict everyone (except myself, Sirius, Orion, Walburga, Andromeda, Dorea, Reggie and Cissa) from every Black property and remove their access to those properties and to any Black vaults in Gringotts. After all, they're deliberately defying their Head of House's wishes, so it's perfectly understandable that they be denied any resources of the House, right? I'll also have to change my will to ensure that if I die, the whole lot of 'em are legally expelled from the family."

Seeing the question in her eyes, he elaborated, "So they don't try and knock off Sirius in an attempt to get the headship transferred to Reggie or someone else." He mussed his hair in irritation. "Just when I thought I'd done with paperwork for a while! Maybe I can trick Padfoot into doing it for me– I mean, on my behalf. It'd be good training in preparation for him taking up his lordly duties."

"Why not just expel them now?"

"I'm not sure expelling them is the best idea," he replied slowly. "While they're Blacks I at least have some nominal control over them; expelling them makes them free agents. Nothing to stop them formally joining any of the dark families. Bellatrix Lestrange; Narcissa Parkinson; Regulus Carrow; ugh," he shuddered.

Thankfully Harry had at least some rudimentary experience in all this politicking. In his past life, he'd had two years to get his head around being Lord Potter and Lord Black, before The Incident. He silently thanked the Andromeda Tonks of the future for her extensive help in getting him to understand some of the main intricacies of House Black. It had also stood him in good stead in dealing with Goldenrod, Kakarot and the rest of the goblins at Gringotts.

"What about – hold the phone, why I am even talking about this with you? None of this has anything to do with me!"

"Because, like it or not, you _are_ Lady Black. It's your House too, you deserve input into how it's run."

"I am _not_ Lady Black," she gritted her teeth.

"That magic ring on your finger begs to differ." She made a threatening step towards him. Hastily backing up he said, "Okay, how about this? Because your former best friend has now eloped with that crazy bitch Bellatrix and is Merlin knows where doing Merlin knows what."

Her irritation suddenly switched to sadness. She turned away from him to look out over the battlements to the lights of Hogsmeade, twinkling beyond the Black Lake. Harry cautiously stepped up beside her, but remained silent.

After an indeterminate amount of time she whispered, "What do you think he's doing? Will he be okay?"

Harry replied tentatively. "Probably a lot of combat training, and some politics. For what it's worth, I'm sure he's fine. They don't have any reason to do him harm."

She exhaled loudly. "I thought you made him take an oath. All of them."

He nodded sympathetically. "We did and they did. But there's always a way around these things if you're clever enough. They just swore not to follow ol' Voldie, not to ally with the Traditionalist faction. As long as they're not working directly for the Dark Lard Ball, they're not in breach of their oaths. Still can fight for pureblood supremacy though."

There was another long silence.

"Why?" she said miserably. "Why would he do it?"

Harry had no answer.

"He wasn't born into one of the Families, he wasn't raised believing that shite. He knows what the muggle world is really like, what muggles are really like. He knows how it feels to be shunned and picked on for being different," here she shot him a furious glare. He took an unconscious step backwards. The rage didn't last long, and soon her shoulder slumped. She returned to contemplating the stars.

"I thought we were past all this," she admitted softly. "I thought we were … well, maybe not good. But at least we were on the road. Getting back to being good again."

"Well … it's not set in stone. He could always change his mind and come back to you."

"You think that's likely?" she asked skeptically.

"I think that you're Lily Evans, somebody who does whatever it takes to get what she wants," he challenged. "So the real question is, what are you going to do to ensure he sees the error of his ways?"

"Like what?" she snapped with a touch of bitterness.

"You're the brightest witch of your generation, and you know him better than anyone else – you tell me!" he shot back. "And then we'll make a plan."

She regarded him curiously for a bit. "Why would you help me? You hate Severus."

"True enough," he admitted. "But that doesn't mean I want him dead or comatose or 20 pounds lighter from loss of limbs. I know he's important to you. And you're important to me. So if getting him back's what it takes to make you happy, then I'll hold my nose and do what's necessary."

Lily was even more skeptical, but didn't push the issue.

They stayed standing there for a long time in companionable silence. Eventually they realised how late it was and made their way back down the spiral staircase.

"I don't know. I just don't know," Lily mused to herself. "Was he ever the man I thought he was? Or have I just been deluding myself all these years?"

Harry had no answers.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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His dormmates' queries over breakfast as to where'd he'd gone last night were effectively silenced with the single, magic word: "Paperwork." James looked as though he didn't quite believe Harry, but was torn between wanting to ferret out the truth, and worry that it _was_ true and that prying would result in him being dragged into balancing more accounts. An unexpected source of support for the veracity of Harry's tale appeared in the form of Mary MacDonald, who dropped bodily onto the seat next to him like a sack of potatoes.

"So," she chirped, piling her plate with bacon and sausage, "dye manage to sucker Sirius into doing yer paperwork for ye yet?"

"Told you about that, did she?"

"That lass canna keep a secret from me if she tried!" Mary declared imperiously.

"Nah, I finally remembered that I appointed a proxy to take care of all this tedious stuff! I mailed it to her this morning. She'll deal with the Ministry and the goblins. As a bonus, she doesn't share a dorm with me or dump a bag of doxies on my head while I'm sleeping if I piss her off."

"So true," Sirius nodded sagely.

"So ye're solution to yer problems is just to dump everything on Andromeda's head instead?" she demanded.

"Why not?" Sirius interjected. "The Black family pays her a ton of gold to do this shite. If it's too much for her, she can hire a gaggle of secretaries in tight sweaters with their hair in tight buns if she wants."

"Tight sweaters and tight buns?"

"The tighter the better," Padfoot said seriously. "That's very important."

"As fascinating as this discussion may be," Professor McGonagall suddenly loomed over them, "Mr Pettigrew is requested to come to the Headmaster's Office as soon as breakfast is over."

"What's this about, Professor?" asked James.

"I'm sure I do not know," and with that parting comment, she was gone.

"That woman really _really_ doesn't like me," Harry mused. "I wonder why?" She'd always acted so fond of him in his previous life.

"Could be your grades in Transfiguration," Remus suggested. "Or the fact that her animagus form is a cat."

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	20. 18 Abraxas Adventures Thru the Foe Glass

**Author's Note:**

This is both a HP reworking of "Back to the Future" themes, and a continuation/soft reboot/reworking of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" by Rorschach's Blot. Both are used with the permission of their original authors (except for "Back to the Future" of course). The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter or anything else. Full disclaimer in the Table of Contents.

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Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.

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Canon-compliant. HP&DH compliant (except the Epilogue). HP&CC compliant (except the conclusion). FB&WTFT compliant. Pottermore compliant (mostly). Some crossover with: Naruto, Ranma ½, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Twilight and Avatar: The Last Airbender. Primarily Harry Potter though.

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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "The Strange Disappearance of SallyAnne Perks" by Paimpont.

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Question of the Week: I wonder why, since Dumbledore knew for the entirety of HP&HBP that he would shortly die, he didn't just give Harry the tools and equipment he'd need to save the Wizarding World directly, instead of having them willed to Harry after his death? Seems to place an inordinate amount of faith in the speed and honesty of the magical probate process ...

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 **Chapter 18 – Abraxas' Adventures Through the Foe Glass**

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It was just a story about people and rats. And the difficult part of it was deciding who the people were, and who were the rats."

― Terry Pratchett

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Arriving at Dumbledore's Office, Harry was greeted with an enthusiastic tackle from a blonde blur. With a spike of guilt he realised this was the first time he'd seen his new wife – and boy was _that_ still a mind-blowing thought! – since the Hogwarts Express had dropped them off in London. Resolving to treat her better from now on, he hugged Pandora back affectionately.

"Hem hem."

Eventually, they broke apart, and turned to the other inhabitants of the wondrous magical room. Nodding respectfully in greeting to Dumbledore, Harry was unsurprised to see the glowering faces of Scrimgeour and Moody also present. "Only two Aurors this time," he commented lightly to Pandora. "Seems you and I are far less dangerous than the dreaded Marauders. Auror Captain Scrimgeour, Auror Sergeant Moody," he greeted them formally. "Always a pleasure to see your smiling faces."

"The two of you got hitched in November. Less than two months later, a whole barrelful of Malfoys meet their maker, makin' you two the only viable candidates to become Lord and Lady Malfoy," Moody snapped without preamble.

"Really?" he asked, trying hard to look surprised. He wished he'd cultivated an image of being completely off the wall, like Pandora. Nobody ever knows if a nutter is faking or not.

"Hmm, is that so?" she muttered indifferently, as she tried to balance a quill on the tip of her forefinger. He couldn't help but feel a flutter of admiration.

"Yes, I'm afraid it is, my dear," Dumbledore intoned gravely. "It is my sad duty to inform you both of the loss of your beloved relatives, and the consequent increase to your already heavy burdens.

"Awfully convenient for the two of you, wouldn't you say?" Moody smiled horribly.

"If you say so," Pandora shrugged.

"We do," Scrimgeour said dryly. "Get on with it, Chief Warlock!"

Dumbledore placed a large, ornate ebony box with gilded corners onto his desk. "There are a number of difficulties in determining the proper transfer of Lordship to the next Head of House Malfoy," he explained. "Given the unusual circumstances, and the obscurity of the Malfoy Family Rules as to such situations, there is no certainty that the two of you are in fact the legitimate heirs to the House. However, as Auror Moody intimated, on a balance of probabilities, it appears as if the two of you are the likeliest candidates to take up the family mantle."

He carefully opened the box. Inside sat a large Head of family signet ring, made up of a mass of coiling white-gold serpents with emeralds for eyes. Next to it was a smaller, daintier ring, made of a single white-gold serpent eating its own tail. "Happily, there is a simple way to determine whether the Malfoy House magics will accept you two as the next Heads of the family: please attempt to call the rings to yourselves."

Harry tentatively sent a tendril of magic towards the larger ring. He jumped a little as contact produced a minor backlash similar to a static shock. Trying again, he expanded his magic, demanding that the ring appear on his finger. After several minutes of effort, it felt as if a dam suddenly broke, the resistance disappeared, and with a flash the ring was gone! Looking down, he could see it glistening on his finger and feel its weight. Another flash next to him signified that Pandora had likewise succeeded in calling the Lady's ring to her finger.

Dumbledore smiled beneficently. "That settles that. Congratulations, Lord and Lady Malfoy."

"And now _my Lord and Lady_ ," Scrimgeour sneered, "We have some more questions for you. You know the drill by now." At his sign, Moody opened his kit and showed them the contents.

"Déjà vu" said Harry. "Veritaserum, check. Legal dictaquill, check. Except you've forgotten my adult guardian being present."

"You're a big boy now," Scrimgeour scoffed.

"Nevertheless, I insist on having an adult chaperone of my choosing present."

"I'm afraid that the Potter family has gone to Wales today to tour some of their more remote properties," Scrimgeour said happily, "so I'm sorry to say that they won't be able to be here this time…"

"Kreacher!" The elf popped in. Harry pulled out parchment and quill and scrawled a quick note. "Take this note to Charlus or Dorea Potter. If you can't find either of them, take it to Fleamont or Euphemia Potter. If you can't find them, take it to Orion Black. Wait for an answer." With a curt snarl, Kreacher snatched the parchment out of his hand and disappeared. "And make sure they're awake and conscious when you give it to them!" Harry shouted. "No throwing it on their pillow while they're sleeping and then leaving!"

He had a sudden brainwave. "Speaking of elves, I believe House Malfoy has a house elf attached to it. Let's see if he has properly transferred to us as well. Dobby!"

There was a pause, and suddenly a young elf was before him. Harry was shocked at how grim and surly young Dobby appeared. This Dobby looked as if the fire hadn't yet been ground out of him, and he was merely looking for the slightest opportunity to slit his masters' throats. How had those Malfoy bastards being treating the poor creature? Obviously Dobby's abuse hadn't begun with Lucius. Now that he thought about it, he had no idea how old Dobby was or how long house elves lived.

"New Lord Malfoy has summoned Dobby?" the elf growled, glaring at Harry and Luna balefully.

"Ah yes," said Harry, taken aback. Never had Dobby looked at or spoken to him in such a confrontational manner. He was a bit at a loss as to how to proceed. "Um, I was wondering … are you happy with being the elf of House Malfoy?"

"Dobby is pleased to serve House Malfoy, even to the end of the world and to his last dying breath," the elf said, as if by rote, through clenched teeth.

"So you don't want me to free you then?" Harry asked innocently.

A shocked silence followed.

"Master would free Dobby? Just like that?" the elf asked in a shaken voice. "Why?"

Scrimgeour also seemed surprised.

"Because enslaving other beings is wrong, just like abusing other beings is wrong, and I will not tolerate _either_ in my House any longer," Harry replied firmly. "So if you wish to be free, simply tell me and I will free you. If you do not, then tell me if you are unhappy carrying out a task I give you, and I will exempt you from it."

Dobby's eyes widened even more that it seemed possible; Harry thought they almost squeezed out the entire rest of his head. The elf pondered this unexpected development.

"Dobby wishes to be free," he finally said, in a very hesitant tone, then cringed as if he expected a blow.

"Very well," Harry said immediately. "I need for you to tie up a few loose ends for me with House Malfoy, and then I will give you clothes and you can do whatever you wish."

"Master means it?!" Dobby was still having a hard time understanding this bizarre new wizard master of his.

"Cross my heart," he smiled genially. "I will even hire you if you want to be employed by a wizard. Shall we say a galleon a day and every weekend off?"

Dobby gripped his ears and pulled, aghast at such riches being offered to him.

"Well, no need to decide now; have a think about it and let me know. You can always come find me if you need something, or even if you just want to talk. That's what friends do."

"Master Malfoy wishes to be _friends_ with Dobby?!" The elf sported an expression that indicated he was unsure if he had mixed up his morning tea with a piping hot cup of ether.

"Of course – I hear that you are a kind-hearted, energetic and loyal elf," Harry replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Naturally I would want to be friends with a person like that."

"And I would too," interjected Pandora, beaming at the small creature.

"Mistress wishes to be Dobby's friend too?!" Dobby started hopping up and down in consternation. "Dobby will need to give this careful thought," he muttered to himself.

"While you're thinking about it, Dobby, I need you to do something for me. Is there anyone still present in Malfoy Manor?"

"Yes, master. Mistress Drusilla stays in Manor."

"Anyone else, human, elf, goblin, monster, faerie?"

"No, master."

"Throw Drusilla out and lock down the Manor – nobody gets in and nobody gets out except myself and Lady Malfoy here. No exceptions."

"Yes, Master."

"And once you've done that, I need you to gather up all the dark and cursed artefacts in the Manor, even those in the hidden rooms and warded hidey-holes, and bring them here to the Headmaster's Office. In particular, a black, leather diary with the name 'Tom Marvolo Riddle' inscribed on it. You may want to wear dragonhide gloves or something when handling it. Bring me that item first. Once your tasks are completed, I will give you clothes." _I can only hope that horcrux is in the Manor somewhere. If it's not, then our job just got a whole lot harder._

"Dobby is on his way!" Pop!

"You're really going to free your elf? Just like that, for no reason?" inquired Scrimgeour, a perplexed frown bespangling his brow.

"Of course," Harry shrugged. "Why would I want an unwilling house elf?"

Pandora suddenly addressed Dumbledore. "While we're waiting on both of our elves sir, may I trouble you to draw on some of your legal expertise?"

"Certainly Miss Lovegood, this is a place of learning after all," gesturing for the irritated Aurors to hold their peace.

"What steps do we need to take to change the Malfoy family motto?" Pandora asked innocently. "I feel that " _Sanctimonia vincet semper_ " is rather out of date, could use a shine and new coat of paint and all that."

"'Purity will always conquer'," translated the Headmaster. "What were you thinking of changing it to, my dear?"

"Originally I was going to go with ' _Grimis qui manducat me duis nunquam titillandus_ ' in honour of the school," she grinned, pretending not to hear Harry's giggles. "'Never tickle a Grim that's eating my homework'. Catchy and to the point. But that may be a tad too radical for the Families. Wouldn't want to give the poor, delicate dears a heart attack, eh sir? So instead I'll just go for the more pedestrian ' _Sanctimonia cordis vincet semper'_."

"'Purity of heart will always conquer'. I approve, Lady Malfoy," Dumbledore smiled genially. "It is a sentiment I can only hope will increase in these dark times."

"In a similar vein, I'd like to change the Black family motto from ' _Toujours pur'_ , 'Always pure', to ' _Toujours pur de coeur_ ': 'Always pure of heart'," Harry added.

"I'm 'heartened' to see that the Heads of House Malfoy and Black are in agreement on such an important matter," chuckled the Headmaster. "There are a number of forms that will need to be completed and filed with the Ministry and Wizengamot. I shall have one of the school elves deliver them to you by and by."

Pandora inclined her head regally. "That is most appreciated, Professor Dumbledore."

"Not at all, my dear."

"Alright, enough of this chit-chat!" Scrimgeour broke in roughly. "We didn't come to sit around and shoot the breeze all day long –"

He was interrupted by the return of Dobby, who had a very familiar black diary in his dragonhide-glove-clad hands. The elf dropped the artefact onto the floor, he couldn't let go of it fast enough.

Harry breathed out in relief. "Well done, Dobby, very good work!" he praised enthusiastically, levitating the diary to Dumbledore's desk. The elf blushed. "A present for you, Headmaster."

The Chief Warlock was busily casting diagnostic spells over the diary. His eyes widened, and shot up to Harry's. Harry nodded. Dumbledore quickly stowed the book into one of his desk drawers.

"What was that?" demanded Scrimgeour. Moody was also looking on in frank curiosity.

"An artefact of very great evil," Dumbledore replied solemnly. "One that I intend to see destroyed before the day is out."

The two Aurors looked like they were going to demand further answers, but were distracted by the return of Dobby, who dropped a sack onto the floor and disappeared again.

"Don't worry, Aurors," Harry said magnanimously, "there are many more dark artefacts from the Malfoy coffers for you to destroy at your leisure. Take them in good health."

"Consider them an accession gift from House Malfoy to the DMLE," added Pandora.

"Er, right, now onto our most important business," said Scrimgeour, trying hard to ignore the ever-growing pile of objects that kept appearing at his and Moody's feet. Eventually it became so large that they had to take a few steps backwards. "We've waited long enough. If none of your 'esteemed' guardians can see fit to make time to be here for you—"

A flash of fire in the Headmaster's Floo. Scrimgeour sighed in disappointment as a thunder-faced Charlus swept into the office.

"So Rufus, back to harass my charge some more?" he demanded. "And timing it so I'd be out of England eh?" Scrimgeour refused to back down. Moody subtly shifted his stance to keep both the men in a clear line of sight.

"The DMLE doesn't arrange its business around your or anyone else's schedules, Potter," he snapped. You don't approve? Well, too bad! We're in this for all of Britain! In case it's escaped your notice, we're in the middle of a civil war, boys and girls, and if you can't handle what needs to be done to win it, then go back to playing with your dolls and quaffles, and let the adults get back to work!"

"Oh yes, picking on schoolchildren while murderers run loose – you two are really doing your bit for the war effort," Charlus sneered back. "I'm sure your Orders of Merlin are in the owl Post as we speak."

"You think we're joking? An entire family has been wiped out! And they're just the beginning! I know you don't believe the hydra-droppings The Daily Prophet vomits out and calls news: there _is_ no 'Malfoy family curse' or any such rot. The truth is, there's been a huge increase in the number of hitwizards in this country. Seems every psychopath with a wand in Europe and North America has jumped on the bandwagon and relocated here – we now have more mercenaries and hitwizards per capita in Britain than anywhere else in the world! Every family that can afford it has started hiring their own squads, to protect themselves and their property from all the other mercenaries. Which'll only prompt rival families to hire even more, and so on. Whole country's a giant powder-keg. Soon every magical enclave in the country will be swarming with the scum. It's only a matter of time before He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named gets in on it as well, lest his own forces get outnumbered. How does it feel to be living in the mercenary capital of the globe? Do you want to see gangs of hitwizards fighting it out in Diagon or Hogsmeade? 'Coz I can assure you, that's where we're heading!"

"Of course I'm aware of all this," Charlus replied loftily. "My wife's plum robes aren't just for show you know. As you're well aware, the Wizengamot is moving to outlaw all mercenaries and vigilantes."

"Fat lot of good pushing some more paper will do when _certain people_ are allowed to wreak havoc with impunity!"

"Excuse me, gentlemen," Harry tried to move things along. He did have stuff to do today; also the gathering piles of dark artefacts were starting to affect the atmosphere of the Office. It felt like the air was getting increasingly thicker, the light dimmer. He did his best to feign nonchalance. "I'm happy to submit to Veritaserum questioning, provided I'm only asked about matters strictly related to a crime. No drifting into whatever topic takes your fancy."

"That seems sensible," Charlus agreed. "Well, what are you waiting for, man? Get on with it!"

Harry opened his mouth to accept the three drops. He'd gotten through their interrogation once before; unfortunately this time he had done quite a bit more illegal stuff. He reviewed what he'd learned from the Auror Academy about Veritaserum: it was powerful, but there were enough disadvantages that it was not admissible as evidence in court unless voluntarily taken by the defendant. The potion forces you to answer questions truthfully, but you can offer more information than asked if you want. There are ways to skew answers in particular directions: you could take the questions extremely literally, you could give responses that were technically true but avoided the spirit of the question, you could ramble on and on about inconsequential details, and so forth. And finally, the drug can only compel people to speak what they believe is the truth; if they are honestly mistaken, there is no way to know without external evidence.

He could feel the customary wooziness associated with the potion, but pushed through it, trying to maintain as clear a head as possible. "Before we begin, I have a brief statement," he droned, to everyone's surprise. "I, Peter Pettigrew do declare that I did not kill Abraxas or Lucius Malfoy. That I have not hired a single mercenary or hitwizard. And that I have not authorised a single knut from the Potter, Black or Malfoy coffers to be paid for such a purpose."

Harry would've laughed out loud if the potion-induced haze hadn't prevented it. Scrimgeour and Moody looked as if they'd been kicked in the gut while watching their pet kneazle being hauled off to the exterminator. Dumbledore and Charlus looked relieved. _That's knocked you off balance hasn't it, you Auror bastards_ , he thought to himself. _Always so eager to make me your scapegoat, in this world and in the last one. And to think I once almost became one of you. Well, hard cheese! It was Kakarot at Gringotts Paris who did all the hiring, and House Lestrange that is so generously funding this putsch_.

"Ah right. Well," hemmed Scrimgeour. "As a test question, can you confirm the accuracy of your previous statement?"

"That statement is correct. Peter has not killed any Malfoys nor hired any mercenaries or hitwizards."

"Do you know anyone who _has_ hired mercenaries or hitwizards?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"Rudolphus Lestrange." That caused a murmur of surprise.

"How do you know?"

"I saw him sign the contract." More surprised murmurings.

"When was this?"

"During Christmas Break."

Moody and Scrimgeour sat bolt upright. "You saw Lestrange after his disappearance from Hogwarts?!" Moody demanded.

"Yes."

"Why did you not report this to the DMLE?"

"Didn't see a need to."

"Were you not aware that it is every citizen's duty to report any sightings of missing persons to the Ministry?" Scrimgeour took over the questioning once more.

"I saw reward posters offering galleons in exchange for information. I did not see any notifications requiring citizens to report information to the DMLE."

Even through the warm haze in his mind, Harry could hear Scrimgeour grinding his teeth in frustration. "Did you murder Rudolphus Lestrange?"

"No."

"Was he alive the last time you saw him?"

"Yes."

"Do you know who murdered him?"

"I did not witness his murder. Nor do I know of any person who murdered him." _Last time I checked, a giant basilisk was not a person. And even then, I didn't see anything._

"Was he in the company of any other person the last time you saw him?"

"Cyrillus Selwyn and Amycus Carrow."

"Did you murder _them_?"

"No."

"Were they alive the last time you saw them?"

"Yes."

"Do you know who murdered them?"

"I did not witness their murders. Nor do I know of any person who murdered them."

"Where were they the last time you saw them?"

"Running into the Forbidden Forest together."

"What was the nature of your dealings with them? Why were you near the Forbidden Forrest?"

Harry answered but was hit with a _Silencio_. He kept speaking but his words were muted. "I think that's enough, gentlemen. Mr Pettigrew has been more than cooperative with you, and it is more than clear that he has had nothing to do with the crimes you're investigating." _Way to go, great-uncle!_ Harry mentally blessed Charlus; if the questioning had gone much longer, he would've run entirely out of wiggle room, and the full truth would've come out. Probably followed by a lengthy holiday at Casa de Dementors. Harry pondered what to get his great-uncle for a second Christmas present.

Scrimgeour glared at Charlus. "This is the second time you've interfered in an Auror interrogation, Potter. Interference in official investigations is liable to see you on a one-way trip to Azkaban, old fool!"

"You have already covered the matters you're investigating. Your current line of questioning was clearly just fishing for unrelated _private_ House business." Charlus was unrepentant.

"Because the lad's obviously trying to hide something!" He said 'lad' as if it were a dirty word.

"What is obvious is that you're upset he refuses to confess to a crime you've already judged him guilty of, and are desperately trying to find something, anything to pin on him!"

"Spoken like a true accomplice," Scrimgeour sneered. "Perhaps we need to add _you_ to our suspect list. In the meantime, get in my way again and I'll see you clapped in irons and dragged in front of the Wizengamot myself."

"And in that event I'd be more than happy to point out to my wife's colleagues that business between Houses is not illegal, and any dealings Lord Malfoy may have had with Lord Lestrange, Lord Carrow and Lord Selwyn is considered privileged information, unless it pertains to a legitimate investigation of a crime. And since we've already established that the late Lords were last seen alive and well by Lord Malfoy, it is clear that it does not. Any further digging could be seen as a personal vendetta held by some members of the Auror force who inexplicably hold a grudge towards a minor who has done nothing to earn it … certainly the Wizengamot may view it as a _career-limiting move_ for the officials involved, wouldn't you say? Personally, instead of harassing students I would be searching the Forbidden Forest, as that was the deceaseds' last known location – a location swarming with Class V dangerous creatures. But what do I know?"

The argument continued for some time, and eventually drew in everyone but Harry – who continued to drowse in his fuzzy state, silently answering all questions, even the rhetorical ones, that the adults were throwing at each other – and Pandora, who had taken the opportunity to complete her History of Magic homework. The pile of dark artefacts grew higher and higher, spilling over until they covered every inch of the office's floor, and the arguing men had to wade through them as they paced back and forth.

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"I do wish you and your colleagues wouldn't antagonise those two children," sighed Dumbledore when he and Alastor were finally alone. The office was, mercifully, free at last of those disgusting artefacts, although he certainly didn't envy whichever poor clerk at the DMLE had been assigned to categorise, record and destroy them all.

"That _child_ , as you call him, has managed to wrest control of three Ancient and Noble Houses from their former Lords in less than six months!" Moody snapped. "The last one on the backs of more than a dozen dead aristocrats. Now personally I couldn't care less if the scum that make up the dark families all fell into an open volcano at their next reunion. But that doesn't mean I'm going to just stand around and watch while someone cuts a bloody swathe through the wizarding world with impunity!"

"And yet these sad events have undoubtedly weakened the Dark Lord's resources immeasurably."

"You sound like you actually approve of Pettigrew's actions!"

"Merely an observation, Alastor, not an endorsement. And you have been unable to discover any substantive proof that young Pettigrew or Miss Lovegood actually had a hand in any of it. This is pure supposition, nothing more."

"My gut tells me that both are in this up to their neck," Moody grumbled mulishly. "And that for some reason, you're protecting them."

"I am shielding nobody from the law," Dumbledore retorted, a touch of sharpness in his voice. "I am cognizant of the potential that these children have to become powerful allies against Voldemort. Pettigrew's proxy for House Black has already helped to push through several key pieces of progressive legislation. And now he has the weight of House Malfoy to play with. But any possible alliance will fall apart if the Aurors succeed in embittering him towards the British magical government. If he goes dark, I'm willing to bet that a good chunk of his contemporaries will follow."

"You do what you think best," Alastor growled. "You always have. But know that ol' Moody'll be keeping a very close eye on your pets."

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Harry staggered back to his bunk and fell inside, not caring that he still had several classes before lunch. In a moment, he was fast asleep. After a refreshing seven hour powernap, he summoned the most subtle and devious of his house elves.

"Kreacher!" he called. "Go fetch me Lily Evans' time turner again. I don't need to tell you to be sneaky. Like last time. She cannot under any circumstances know that it's missing."

"Sneaky sneaky," Kreacher agreed. "Kreacher will get turney machine for filthy disgrace of a mudblood master."

Harry sighed. _I guess it_ was _too much to hope for that he'd start to warm up to me some. I guess a single, paltry, journey of vengeance on a bunch of muggles isn't enough to overshadow my 'disgrace' of being a halfblood, and my 'further disgrace' of displacing Orion as Head of House Black. Ah well, baby steps._

A quick _Tempus_ revealed that it was dinnertime. Harry pulled out his mirror and quickly contacted Ron, requesting he finish his meal early and meet him on the second floor. Armed with the time turner, he made his way down to meet his confederate. Soon they found themselves huddled in conclave in a dust-filled supply room, surrounded by broken brooms and worm-eaten tables.

"What are we going to do tonight, Peter?"

"The same thing we do every night, Gilderoy: commit crimes for fun and profit!" Harry revealed the time turner with a flourish.

"Ah, time turners," Ron mused sagely, "the greatest alibi a man can have."

"Well said," Harry agreed.

"So," Ron grinned, "does your Mum know that you've 'borrowed' her time turner?"

"Ehehe," he scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "What she doesn't know won't hurt her, right? Or more importantly, hurt me. And stop calling her my Mum! My Mum sacrificed her life to save baby Harry Potter 20 years ago! That girl is just some younger relative of hers that happens to share a strong familial resemblance."

"But …"

"That. Is. All. Besides, we need the time turner if we're going to finish off the Malfoys once and for all. Me and Pandora have already been invested as Lord and Lady Malfoy. Which means you and I've already done something in the past to end things. Which means we need to go back and do it. Again."

"How do you know?"

"The two of us were interrogated by the Aurors after breakfast. Again. Under Veritaserum. Again. Luckily I was able to get ahold of Charlus to supervise. Again. "

"A Lovegood under Veritaserum?" Ron snickered. "Wish I'd been there to see that."

"Hysterical it was. She kept rambling about the details of her experimental data, her grand plan to unite muggle and magical chemistry, and the intricacies of the Rotfang Conspiracy's plots to replace all the Aurors with transfigured dung-beetles. The best part was when she demonstrated the nargle mating dance for our edification."

"We seriously need to invest in a pensieve. Dya think she'd re-enact it for us later?"

"If you ask nicely she might. Bribing her with chocolate pudding would also work to your advantage. Now," Harry got to business, "the Aurors refused to give me any details about the circumstances of their demise, so we'll have to just make it up as we go."

"Same plan as always then?" Ron joked.

"Pretty much. Last I heard, Abraxas and his wife barricaded themselves in their Manor and activated the war-wards. Not strictly legal without DMLE authorisation, but given what's been happening to all their relatives, I doubt the Ministry is going to prosecute. Hermione told me that before I left for the Hogwarts Express. That was two days ago. So I think the best time to do something is either while our past selves are on the Express, or that night during the Welcoming Feast."

Ron nodded. "Lots of witnesses. Nobody can credibly say that we could travel all the way to Wiltshire, bump slimy and slimier off, then get back to Hogwarts without a soul noticing."

50 turns of the device, and the world shifted. They disillusioned themselves and sneaked their way to the bathroom, not a difficult feat as the students had not yet arrived for the term. Once in the Chamber's main chamber, they settled down on the most garish (yet most comfortable) couch and began to plot.

"The main problem," Ron observed, "is the wards. Even on normal settings, the Malfoys have been strengthening them and adding new layers for generations. There's no way for any human, hippogriff or house elf to get through without permission. And that's not even considering that they've been set to full alert."

"Fawkes could probably do it," Harry considered. "But there are difficulties. First of all, he doesn't know me from Mordred this time around, so I don't know if I could convince him to help. Secondly, we're essentially asking him to help us assassinate someone. I can't imagine a Light creature being okay with that. And third, Fawkes wasn't there last time I was in Dumbledore's office. Or the time before that, come to think of it. I very much suspect that Dumbledore has him travelling around the country checking those places I told him will be storing horcruxes in the future."

"That's a brilliant idea! Get the bird who can teleport anywhere in an instant to look for the bloody things, instead of searching the length and breadth of the British Isles on foot. Why didn't he do that the first time round?"

"'Coz wizards are stupid and have no common sense?"

Ron punched his arm good-naturedly. "Oi, don't speak of your own kind that way!"

"Make me!" he laughed. They mock-wrestled for a while until they tired themselves out.

"War-wards, full alert, explain what they mean," Harry queried/commanded when they had regained their breath.

Ron's knowledge of such things was patchy (he'd tended to drift off to sleep whenever Bill was explaining the technical intricacies of warding), but the gist of it was clear.

"So bottom line: one does not simply walk into Malfoy Manor."

Ron nodded.

"Nobody but a member of the immediate family can get within a mile of the place without an explicit invitation."

Ron nodded.

"Dammit. That leaves us with only one option."

"You mean …?"

"I'll grab a vial of mandrake Restorative Draught. Then I'm off to the greenhouses. Ron, you start practising your _Obliviate_ and _Imperius_ spells."

"Great."

"Quit your bellyaching, Mr Genius-With-Mind-Magic. You know I'd do it myself if I wasn't completely pants at it. This looks like a job for an Obliviator-and-'round-the-world-heroic-exploit-stealer-to-be extraordinaire!"

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Lord Abraxas Cedrellus Malfoy woke with a start. His wards had triggered, alerting him to the entry of single person to the Manor. Seizing his wand from the bedside table, he slipped out of bed, careful not to wake his slumbering wife. The past few weeks had been extremely stressful for both he and Drusilla, and he didn't begrudge her the few, scattered hours of sleep she was able to snatch here and there.

Both had been worried sick to death by the disappearance of their only child and heir from the supposedly safest place in magical Britain, right under Albus Dumbledore and Horace Slughorn's giant noses. They had promptly mobilised the entire weight of the Malfoy family to find him, no financial, political or public affairs route had been left unturned. Posters dotted every magical district in Europe; hundreds and then thousands of galleons in rewards had been offered; the Aurors scoured Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, the Forbidden Forest and all adjoining lands for hundreds of miles in every direction, before moving to Diagon Alley and every other magical enclave in Britain; Minister Bagnold and Director Crouch had made public appeals in the Daily Prophet; hundreds of bounty hunters, sailors, thieves and other lowlives hunted through Knockturn Alley, the docklands and all the other disreputable hovels that were hidden from the sight of decent folk; hundreds of witches and wizards had come forward to report sightings or other information on Lucius, from Russia to Australia. None of which had led to any tangible leads. But all of which had left them completely unprepared for the second hammer-blow.

Abraxas had to admit a grudging admiration for the unseen enemy who'd struck at the family so masterfully and devastatingly. He'd reached the natural conclusion: Lucius was kidnapped in order to draw the rest of the Malfoys out, to more easily dispose of them. He fully expected to receive ransom demands before long, ordering him to appear at a particular place and time to negotiate. To try to lure he and his wife, the last two Malfoys of any prominence who remained alive, into an ambush, and end the lineage once and for all.

So they had taken the prudent course and sealed themselves in the Manor, raising the wards to maximum. They had time to wait out the crisis, to grieve, to plot their vengeance, to track down the fools that dared raise their hand against their betters. No matter how cunning their foe, it was impossible for them to penetrate such immense defences … or was it? Abraxas glanced at the Foe Glass that adorned his bedroom wall. Lots of vague, indeterminate shapes, as if the mirror could not make up its mind about whether this was a threat or not. _Useless piece of glass_ , he cursed.

Clutching his wand firmly in a duelling grip, he moved stealthily towards where the wards indicated was the point of penetration. No matter the Foe Glass's prevarications, anyone who could penetrate his wards was a formidable opponent indeed. He slipped into the shadows, took his position … and gasped out loud. His son Lucius, hair and robes dirty and dishevelled, but safe and sound in one piece, stood in the middle of the Grand Dining Room, as if waiting for his arrival. The wave of immense relief that flowed through him (causing him to sag limply against the wall and pant, swallowing great gobs of life-giving air), was soon followed by a wave of immense rage towards his son for all the worry he'd felt. It appeared his original theory was incorrect; Lucius showed no signs of kidnapping, desperate flight or any sort of rough treatment.

"So the prodigal returns," he sneered. "Where have you been, chasing Bulgarian Veela? Raping a few muggle royals? You have precisely one minute to explain why I should not flay your hide and dump you in a cauldron of sulphur for all the trouble you've caused me, and all the grief you've caused your mother!"

"Where I was is not important, Father," Lucius sneered imperiously. "What is important is what's in this box." He brandished his load.

"Oh? And what pray tell is in this box?" sneered Abraxas.

"But a trifle – just a means to guarantee the Dark Lord's complete victory," sneered Lucius sarcastically.

Curious, Abraxas' wand swung up again. As he cast his first diagnostic spell, Lucius threw open the lid. Both grabbed their ears at the mind-shredding pain, collapsing to the floor insensible as the unpotted adult mandrake screamed its indignation.

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Ron gave a gasping shudder, then flopped insensate onto the couch. Harry rushed over and began casting his limited repertoire of diagnostic spells. To the best of his ability to check, he diagnosed the situation as one of simple magical exhaustion. Relaxing a trifle, he covered his friend with a blanket and left him to sleep it off.

"It's done," Ron whispered hoarsely several hours later, as he lifted the cup of soup to his lips with trembling hands.

"You mean …"

"Yep. It worked. Mandrake got 'em both; I … the connection was severed. Violently. Magical blowback felt like being stomped in the head by a nundu." He sighed in relief as Kreacher adjusted the moist towel on his forehead. They sat in quiet contemplation for a long time.

"I can't do that again, Harry," Ron eventually said. "You know I'd do anything for you, but I can't do it." He shuddered weakly. "That curse …"

Harry was starting to get seriously worried by the condition of his friend. The exhaustion was wearing off, and in its place tremors had started. Ron stared off into the distance, not seeming to see the others in the room. Harry shared a nervous look with Kreacher. There was no way they could bring him to Madame Valentine in his current state; reeking of dark magic and suffering the aftereffects of casting an Unforgiveable.

"I had to use all of it," Ron muttered, eyes glazed. "Every single bit of fury and hate I ever felt towards that whole stinkin' mob. For what they did to Fred. Ginny. Bill. To you and Hermione. To Dobby." His lanky frame shivered harder. "You have to _want_ to extinguish the person. Smother their will until it's nothing. Wipe them clean. Merlin, it's sick."

"It's all over. You did it. You'll never have to do it again. Ever," Harry promised. "You avenged them. You avenged us all."

"Avenged," he repeated blankly. He looked at his hands. "Merlin, I feel so dirty."

"Then let's get you clean," Harry said softly, hoisting his friend upright. It wouldn't be long before their other selves would be arriving in the Chamber to begin the plan anew. Slowly he and Kreacher manoeuvred him out of the bathroom and into the corridor, ducking into an alcove at the sound of approaching footsteps. Nobody was visible but the footfalls continued past them and off into the distance, their other selves racing towards the Chamber. Not wanting to risk Ron near the other 'Claws just yet, Harry instead led them to the Prefect's bathroom. _Damn, forgot there was a password to get into this place._ He racked his brain, trying to remember what Cedric had told him all those years ago. "Um, pine something?"

To his mild shock, the doorway opened. Rolling his eyes at the thought that the Prefects hadn't bothered changing the password in over thirty years, he and Kreacher dragged Ron into the bath and turned the hot water onto full. After casting a half dozen locking charms at the door, Harry climbed into the tub, sat down behind Ron and held him to his chest. Neither bothered to remove their clothes.

"Is there anything else that can be done to help him Kreacher?" he asked wearily.

"Kreacher is not knowing. Is bad dark magic."

That sparked an idea. If it was the effect of dark magic, perhaps exposure to some powerful Light magic would help counteract it. It was worth a shot. Grabbing his wand, he cast. _Expecto Patronem!_ Prongs sprang out, his aura filling the room with ethereal light, and waves of warm, thick, treacly joy. Trotting over to Ron, Prongs made a soft whinnying sound and nuzzled at his cheek. The boy reached up and weakly patted the silvery muzzle.

Harry and Prongs held him until the shivers subsided and Ron fell into a fitful sleep.

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Mary MacDonald rolled out of bed. Something wasn't right, she didn't usually sleep in this late, judging from the amount of light pouring in through the window. She usually had Alarm Clock Lily drag her out from under the sheets bright and early (whether she wanted to or not). Rubbing her eyes blearily, she grabbed her wand and dressing-robe and staggered to the alarm clock. As she slapped her hand down to shut the buzzing alarm off, she suddenly felt a magic tether hook behind her navel, and was jerked outside time and space.

The portkey deposited Mary in an undignified pile, knee-deep in icy sludge. As she tried to move, the mud refused to release its hold on her bare feet. "Damn it!"

"Indeed," a chilling voice hissed. "It seems that Flitwick has come through on his end of the bargain."

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!?" Mary yelled in shock. " _Reducto!_ "

"You're going to have to do better than that, mudblood!" the voice laughed. " _Crucio!_ "

Mary dodged the spell and submerged herself. Knew I shoulda taken Lils up on her offer of swimming lessons, she lamented. Ah well, no use for it now. The Scotswoman hugged the bottom as she made her way to the shore.

"Where are you, MacDonald!?" Voldemort's voice screamed. "You can't run from me!"

Mary crawled up the beach and carefully made her way into the brush.

"You can't escape, mudblood," Voldemort laughed. "I know where you are. Why don't you make things easy for yourself, if you give up now then I promise to make things quick ... well, quicker then I'd planned anyway."

It took the girl nearly two hours to get close enough to be sure of getting a hit. " _Reducto_ ," she whispered. And watched in shock as the spell connected. " _Reducto, reducto, reducto!_ " she chanted. Mary bit her lip to keep herself from screaming in joy. "Looks like ye weren't so tough after all, Mr Dobber Dark Lord," she taunted. "Now to keelhaul that traitor Flitwick."

" _Petrificus totalus!_ "

Mary whirled to confront the next attacker and was met by a spell to the chest.

"I can work with you," the caster said. "Made a few mistakes, but that's not a big deal. You were quiet, you shot him in the back, you kept shooting, and you didn't give up. Must say that I was especially impressed with the fact that you were planning to give me a bit of payback for selling you up the river. So tell me, child, what did you do wrong?"

Mary just glared bloody murder up at her quarter-goblin captor and tried to growl.

"That's right, poor situational awareness. You let me creep up on you and you let yourself celebrate after you thought you had the kill. Get up, Miss MacDonald ... no? Well, when the spell wears off, meet me in the building 200 feet north of here. Think about ways you can improve in the meantime. Farewell."

Mary fizzled and fumed. _Ye just made my list, twally-washer_ , she thought viciously to herself. _Ye, and those other jobbies Peter, Sirius, James, and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named._

Eventually the petrification wore off, and Mary made her scratched and sore way to the building, the only structure as far as in the eye could see.

Entering, she was surprised to see the bruised and battered forms of Frank, Alice, Marlene, Lily, Apolline, Xeno and Pandora sprawled out over the fold-out cots.

"So, Flitwick got you too, eh?" offered Frank with a weak grin. "Wonder who's next on the list?"

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"No using me for experiments!" Harry said firmly.

"I don't recall promising that," Pandora replied with a dazed grin.

"Drat." Harry eyed the runic circle his wife had drawn up around him with a hint of fear, surely Ron's incessant auguries of doom had been exaggerating? If only he'd known the truth about marriage, his cold feet would have turned into full blown panic, all those weeks ago. He decided to make sure everything would be safe.

"Could we have Lily double-check this?" Harry asked hopefully.

"You don't trust your wife?" Pandora asked with tears in her eyes. "You think your beloved life-partner would do something to hurt you? Oh the shame, the horror, if only we'd had more time to properly bond as man and wife. Curse the vicissitudes of Fate that have sundered our hearts from the other, leaving us pitifully alone and unloved in this hard, cold, cruel multiverse," she sobbed.

"I trust you!" Harry said quickly. "It's just that ..."

"Great!" Pandora cheered, her tears disappearing in an instant. "Contact!"

A column of light rose into the sky and split into three parts, each heading off and disappearing. Ten seconds later, three smaller streams of light returned.

"What happened?" Harry asked, he felt woozy and everything was blurry.

"Hmmmm?" Pandora cast a couple of quick diagnostic charms. "I'm such a genius!" She laughed, raising a fist into the air. "Sometimes I even amaze myself, it's a wonder I'm not crushed under the massive weight of my massive intellect! Bwahahahahahahaha!"

"My arms are longer," Harry said in shock.

"You're also taller and blessed with perfect health," Pandora added. "Just a little down-payment from the Cosmos for the bad hand it dealt you when looks and athleticism were being parcelled out. We'll use it on Lily next – she's almost a perfect 10/10 in every respect, but there's always a little extra that can be done! In fact, why don't you go get her now."

"Okay, dear," Harry agreed after making a quick check that he hadn't lost or gained any appendages.

Once a protesting Lily Evans was safely ensconsed in the runic circle, Pandora turned to the love of her life (the non-Science one, anyway) who was trying to unobtrusively sneak away. "While you're still here, there's one last matter that needs to be resolved: your appalling treatment of your first wife. Hm, I mean second wife," nodding in deference to an outraged, bound Lily. "You've been ignoring and downright avoiding that poor little Veela ever since the beginning of term; naturally, she turned for help to someone of towering mental prowess! And I could never say no to a fellow blonde Ravenclaw partner-in-felonies!"

Hastily backing away, no longer bothering with subterfuge, Harry raised his hands defensively. "No need for you to waste your time intervening, uh, everything's perfectly all right now, we're fine, we're all fine, here, now, thankyou. Er, how are you?" he gibbered nervously.

"You are clearly _not_ fine – your aura's been overwhelmed by the blibbering flobberwash that Apolline's overprotective Papa has been spouting," Pandora said sternly. "Fortunately there is a simple cure that doesn't involve brain grafting." She snapped her fingers.

Harry was struck by a petrifying jix from behind. A pair of strong, clawed hands arrested his fall. "Eet eez time zat you and I 'ave a little talk, my Pierre. A talk we should 'ave 'ad in Bretagne," came a gentle, mellifluous voice. The last voice he wanted to hear right now. "Allons-y, I 'ave such sights to show you!"

And with that he was in her arms and they were flying away into the glorious sunset. He had no working mouth yet he must scream.

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"Here you go, sir, happy birthday."

"Thankyou Mr Pettigrew. However, I fear to tell you that today is not, in fact, my birthday."

"Your unbirthday then," Harry waved dismissively. "Or a down-payment on all those hundreds of birthdays that I didn't give you a single present."

"Fortunately, I'm not quite that old just yet. What is this?"

"It's your ration of HA supplies, sir."

"HA?"

"Stands for the 'Hogwarts Army'. Our clandestine illegal-militia made up of Hogwarts students. We originally considered calling it the DA for 'Defence Association' aka 'Dumbledore's Army', but with the Ministry's paranoia running sky-high these days, if word leaked about our group we wouldn't want Minister Bagnold thinking you were building an army of insurrectionists to overthrow her, would we? I don't want to be responsible for you being forced into fleeing the castle, or something."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Most considerate of you all."

"Is there some reason we're having this meeting at the bottom of the Black Lake?" Harry craned his neck cautiously to look around at the giant, invisible bubble-head dome that surrounded the Headmaster's makeshift office. It was never wise to ask Dumbledore too many questions, every answer held the potential to make you regret the fact that you'd asked it.

Pandora waved cheerily to a passing school of grindylows.

"It is sometimes nice to get out of my stuffy office to do one's work somewhere with better ventilation," the old man replied cheerfully. "Unfortunately for me, my usual go-to places are all currently occupied, so I was forced to be more creative."

"Better ventilation huh?" Harry repeated dubiously.

"Indeed. But I sense that you did not come all the way down here to ask me that. I am most curious as to why you felt it necessary to inform me of your HA. Usually unauthorised clubs do their utmost to say out of my sight and knowledge."

"And have any of them ever managed to succeed at that?"

Dumbledore merely smiled, eyes twinkling.

"I rest my case. As to why, four reasons. First, as a matter of courtesy."

"Courtesy?"

"Yes, from one clandestine illegal-militia leader to another."

The Headmaster's eyes raised.

"I've referring to your own unauthorised club, the Order of the Phoenix. I know it's top secret," he tapped the side of his nose conspiratorially, "which means, of course, that everybody knows about it. Even my friendly neighbourhood shopkeepers of Diagon." He grinned. "The second reason is so that you don't get caught flat-footed in case our shenanigans land us in hot water. I wouldn't want our first discussion of the HA to be between prison bars in one of the DMLE's holding cells. Hopefully, over time, the HA will be able to operate in conjunction with your Order to carry out joint operations, or undertake surveillance, raid supply dumps, and all the rest of that illegal-militia-y goodness. But in the short term, we're all focused on training mind and body. I might be able to take down a few junior Aurors or Death Eaters in direct combat, but I'd be creamed by an experienced witch or wizard. The others are the same. The third reason is because our redoubtable Head Girl didn't want to do it behind your back."

Dumbledore and Harry both smiled at Lily, who gave an embarrassed shrug.

"And the fourth reason?"

"Because it greatly amuses me to openly describe all the crimes I'm committing right to the face of the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the ICW, and highest-ranked judicial officer of Magical Britain."

 _And because throwing him these bones provides excellent cover for all the other, more serious crimes you've been committing, the Lynx noted dryly. A limited hangout strategy: tell smallers lie to hide a larger one._

"Most diligent of you, Mr Pettigrew," the Professor said dryly. His eyes flickered to the other students in the room who were looking rather sheepish. "And what sort of other crimes have you recidivists been committing on my watch?"

"Would you like the list? Kidding, kidding. Anyway, as I was saying, my future counterpart's memories tell me that things are going to get a lot worse before they get better. So I rounded up the more motivated sixth and seventh years and convinced them to band together so we can make a difference in this war."

"I must admit to a certain amount of surprise at who you've collected into your HA Club, Mr Pettigrew. Many of these students before me are not, shall we say, part of your small circle of intimates. What convinced them to allocate so much time and energy to your association?"

"You'd be amazed what hearing about your bleak and painful future does for your motivation. Nothing like threat of death or madness to sort out your priorities," Harry replied grimly. A couple of the other students squirmed uncomfortably in their seats.

 _Learning their grueseome fates in his counterpart's future certainly lit a fire under them, the Grim commented. I've never seen Padfoot study like that in his life._

"I see," Dumbledore sighed sadly.

"I haven't told them everything, only important stuff. I won't answer questions about who they get married to or what their career will be or whether they win the Quidditch League betting pool or how many kids they'll pop out, or any shite like that. Chances are, that future kid didn't know. Or if he _did_ know, the answer to all of the above is most likely 'murdered and dumped in a ditch by Death Eaters or their ilk'. He was living through a war. Some things are best left unknown." He looked pointedly at Lily, who'd been badgering him incessantly for information about her future. "None of which matters in the slightest anyway, because we're going to change all of it so that Nobody Dies. I realise that's dreaming the impossible dream, Death is the unbeatable foe, but it's better to shoot for the stars and miss than aim for a skunk a hit a bulls-eye, amirite?"

"Not like you were ever any good at keeping this stuff a secret," interjected James. "Going on about the Triwizard Tournament and whatnot."

"Triwizard? There hasn't been one held in nearly 300 years …"

"Well that's about to change in another two decades," Harry said sourly.

"Do tell, Mr Pettigrew."

"My future counterpart got entered against his will. Forced to compete in deadly competitions against students three years' his senior."

"How was he forced?" queried Pandora, an intense look gleaming in her piercing sapphire orbs. Her fists clenched, ready to rain down bloody brimstone upon whatever degenerate parasites had forced her husband's future self into mortal peril.

"Someone entered him in a magical contract against him will. Would've lost his magic and become a squib if … he … refused to compete …"

 _Hmmm. That … has potential, the Otter said thoughtfully._

"Professor," Harry said urgently, "I need the Goblet of Fire!"

"Eh? What's that Mr Pettigrew."

"The Goblet of Fire – I'm sure you of all people will be able to get your hands on it. It's vital I get ahold of it, it could be a matter of life or death!"

"I quite agree," Dumbledore growled coldly. "Which is why you're never going to ask me for it ever again. Too many have died or been injured from toying with that artefact."

"But –"

"An object so ancient and so powerful is not something that shall ever be within reach of underage students while I am still in the Headmaster's chair."

"But –"

"And at this point you approached Professor Flitwick?" Dumbledore said, firmly moving the conversation along.

 _Grrr. You haven't heard the last of this, barked the Grim._

Harry nodded. "We needed an instructor. A proper instructor," he added, forestalling Ron's comment. "One with actual combat experience. We can't afford flail around in Amateur Hour this time around, 'Roy. It's pure luck a dozen times over that we're even still alive by this point!"

Lily winced. "That bad?"

"Unfortunately."

"But you, we, our side _did_ win the last time around, didn't we?" the redhead persisted.

"You mean in the future?"

"Yes."

Harry sighed. "We did."

"How? Can we replicate the victory?"

"Through a series of freak occurrences, Voldie managed to nail himself with his own AK. As to whether we could replicate it … not unless you're willing to offer up your life and the life of your firstborn son …?" Harry replied, with a significant look at the girl. Lily paled and looked away.

"Why don't we mark that down as a plan of last resort," Dumbledore suggested.

"You've also been muttering in your sleep about being the Master of Death," Lily mused.

"And how do you know what he does in his sleep, Evans?!" James demanded (i.e., squeaked in shock).

She rolled her eyes. "The lazy vermin spends more time napping than reading during our study sessions."

"I can't help it," Harry whined, "those Library seats are so comfy."

"Tell us about ascending to become the Master of Death," Pandora commanded. "I assume you united the Three Deathly Hallows, as Beedle described?"

Harry nodded reluctantly. "And don't bother asking me where they are, I'm not saying," he said stubbornly.

A shocked silence descended.

"So … you're immortal?" Remus gulped.

"What? Don't be stupid, Moony, I'm as frail and mortal as the next wizard."

"Well, what sorts of awesome powers did the Hallows bestow upon you?" Padfoot demanded impatiently. "Are you invulnerable to magical attacks? Can you commune with the dead? Can you order Death to resurrect people who've passed on? Can you kill people from a distance?"

"What are you yipping about, Padfoot? You think if I could do any of that I'd be bothering with a high school students' defence club? Instead of, oh I don't know, snapping my fingers and killing Mouldy Shorts and his Death Nibblers in an instant? Or walking up to him, shrugging off Killing Curses left and right, and ripping his heart out with one hand?"

"So you mean …" Remus began.

"I mean that the whole vaunted 'Master of Death' thing is complete bunk, I got bupkis out of it. What a gyp! Each of the Hallows were useful in themselves, of course, but it turns out all those legends about mastering death were basically garbage; some entertaining tales someone threw together to explain these strange and powerful artefacts that the Peverall brothers invented. Or stole."

James immediately puffed up to defend the reputations of his illustrious ancestors.

Ignoring him, Harry continued their previous line of conversation. "I take it Professor Flitwick informed you about our clandestine training, Headmaster?"

"Of course."

"So you see, there was no point keeping the HA a secret! Roles are divvied up into different specialities. Everyone has to learn combat skills, but on top of that there's the Mind Control Directorate, run by Gilderoy Lockhart," he gestured to Ron. "'Roy's a whizz with mind magics, he's teaching us all Occlumency and legilimency. Some are making further strides than others," he grimaced ruefully.

Ron looked displeased.

 _I don't know why he's so grouchy about his job, the Otter grumped. Never underestimate the value of a tool that can remove evidence so thoroughly and completely as an obliviation!_

 _Not to mention the fact that he has his girlfriend to 'console' him; I bet Hermione's pleased to have her human garbage disposal machine back in her arms once more, snarked the Grim. The boytoy has no reason to frown._

"Research Directorate, aka the Bookworm Brigade, run by Marlene. Assistants are Remus and Alice, they plow through the Library and any other source of information they can get hold of. Finding us any information that may be useful. And to support the Science and Development Directorate – guess who's in charge of that one," he chuckled. Pandora favoured them all with a deranged grin. "Er, yes, assisting Pandora are Lily and Mary. They make all sorts of useful toys for us to play with. Lily's also stocking up on medical magics. Sports and Social Directorate, run by Frank, assistants are James and Sirius, in charge of pushing our physical skills, and making us wish we'd never been born!"

"And proud of it!" declared James.

 _Those three are geniuses, pure geniuses, said the Grim, wiping a tear from its eye. The jump rope is mankind's greatest invention, bar none! I can't count the number of happy hours we've watched the girls use theirs. It's almost hypnotic the way they bounce ... Sometimes, on very rare occasions, it's actually good to be Harry Potter._

 _It's true, times like that make me feel there truly is a benevolent god that wants me to live a happy life, Harry remarked._

 _Unfortunately outnumbered by the far more numerous times that you feel you've attracted the attention of a malevolent deity intent on making you Fate's Permanent Bitch, added the Otter._

 _Such is life, Harry supposed._

"Propaganda Directorate, run by Xenophilius and assisted by Dobby. To get the truth out there and counter the Death Eaters' and The Daily Prophet's daily lies alike. And then me, the Rat Directorate."

 _Also a couple of Frogs from Beauxbatons, but it might cause an international incident if they're involvement ever got out, commented the Lynx._

"And what, pray tell, does the Rat Directorate look after?" grinned the Headmaster. "I have been involved in organisations for many years and have never heard of such a thing?"

"Everything else," was the laconic reply. "Apparation, Patronus Charm, illegal Traceless wand acquisition, Auror surplus wand holsters and Dragonhide vests acquisition, Auror training manuals acquisition, offensive curses, dirty tricks. Bascially how to fight like rats and mice. Sneaky and dirty."

 _And the animagus transformation, the Otter added impishly. But probably better to leave that little tidbit as an ace in the hole._

 _Freyr, weren't James and Sirius upset about that one! the Grim chortled. At least until they wound their heads back in._

 _I think telling them that having a secret animagus ability could be the difference between life and death, and asking if they were willing to be parsimonious with their knowledge if it risked one of their friends dying, made them feel a bit ashamed, mused the Otter._

 _Peter was the one who brewed the revealing potion in the first place! sniffed the Dormouse. Those three are mediocre potions students at best!_

 _Prek! barked the Owl, not wanting to be left out of the discussion._

"The Patronus Charm? That is very advanced magics for NEWT students."

"Extremely useful for long distance communication. Our communication mirrors are great for short-distances, but they only have a range of a couple of miles. Your communications mirror is in your pack, Headmaster. To activate, just tap it with your wand and say the name of the person you wish to talk to. If someone's trying to contact you, it will vibrate. Tap it with your wand twice for group-chat." Harry pulled out his known mirror to demonstrate. "This genius device was invented by our own James, Remus and Sirius." Pandora applauded politely. "And the second great device invented by our three geniuses – the Hogwarts Map. That's in your pack too." Harry removed his own version of the Marauders' Map and demonstrated. "You can enter your own password – 'Hermione Jane Granger'!" And with the correct password and wand tap, the outline of Hogwarts castle was revealed. "We had them replicate their original design with a few tweaks, like being able to search for individuals, and fellow HA members are highlighted in red. Since you're connected to the Hogwarts Wards as Headmaster, you probably don't need it, but perhaps Professor McGonagall would appreciate it as a Valentine's guest," he chuckled. "Ensures that all HA members can find anyone around Hogwarts at a moment's notice."

"Most impressive charms work," Dumbledore praised as he examined his new items in turn. "One can only imagine the delight of Professor Flitwick should Mr Potter and Mr Black ever demonstrate such brilliance in the classroom."

Remus snorted, and hastily choked down his bark of laughter.

"You have all certainly put a lot of time and effort into your defence club, I think 20 points for each of you would be appropriate. However, I cannot help but feel trepidation for your plans for using these devices and skills you've worked so hard on. What precisely do you mean by 'fighting like rats and mice', Mr Pettigrew?" The Headmaster's voice had gradually sharpened over the course of that last sentence.

Harry sighed. He knew it'd been too much to hope for that the Professor would just let that stray comment slide. He also knew he'd have to hash this issue out with Dumbledore sooner or later. No time like the present, yeah? "From Gilderoy's and my perspective, we have to do it all over again. The war. The death. The fighting. And we don't intend to stumble around like amateurs this time around; be the patsies of the wizarding world; go out and singlehandedly fight everyone's battles for them so that they can cower away in the warmth and safety of their own homes and wait for everything to blow over. And come back out when the sun is shining again and most of the muggleborns are gone, creating lots of new job openings, and lots of lovely abandoned property to grab. A brand new day indeed." Harry blinked. "Hah. Hadn't intended that to come out so cynically." He shook his head. "We're in a civil war situation here. You do realise that everyone in this room is probably going to have to kill people before we're through. As in, lots and lots of people. People who hopefully won't see it coming and won't have a chance to resist, or to change their ways, or to 'return to the Light'."

A sombre pall fell on the room at his cold words.

Dumbledore leaned back and sighed his own sigh of sorrow. "I did not wish this war to ever touch my students. I wish it need not have happened in my time at all. So do all who live to see such hard times. But alas, that is not for us to decide. All we can decide is what to do with the time that is given us. But I warn you all, children, do not be too eager to deal out death and judgment upon others. Even the very wise cannot see all the consequences."

"It's no more than the Death Eaters deserve," growled Ron. "They want to eat death, fine, I say we feed them their fill!"

"Deserve? I daresay those wretched individuals deserve everything you're willing to inflict on them, Mr Lockhart. Many that yet quicken deserve death. And many that have died deserve life. Can you give it to them?"

"That's too profound for me," Ron admitted. "I don't presume to be some almighty deity judging people for their sins and carrying out sentence. All I can do is whatever's necessary to protect my friends and family."

"What's necessary. Yes, we all must do what is necessary. Be wary, young ones, you are not the first to consider that path. They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions, but in my limited experience, many a Dark Lord started their careers by doing what they felt was necessary, rather than what they desired, then following that road to its logical conclusions. Necessary for themselves, necessary for their loved ones, finally what was necessary for the world."

"The Greater Good," Harry murmured.

"Yes indeed. Something easy to articulate, but far harder to actualise."

"That's it!" Pandora snapped her fingers. The other inhabitants of the underwater bubble looked at the blonde magiscientist, startled at her abrupt re-entrance into the conversation. She paused to think, sucking on the ends of her two wands absently. Finally, she tucked one behind her ear and the other through the bun of her hair and announced gravely, "I am humbled by the depth of my own genius." Another shudder racked her slender frame.

Harry smiled. "What have you come up with now, my wonderful genius wife?"

"I need you to explain an idiom to me," she replied slowly. "What exactly does the phrase 'fight fire with fire' mean? One would not think that fire would be an appropriate thing to fight other fire with. Even leaving aside the fact that they would seem to be natural allies, one would suppose that water might be more effective." The girl paused. "Unless of course you're fighting a grease fire, or Fiendfyre, or _Flammensectum_ fire, but we're not, we're just speaking of a normal fire."

"It means to to use the same or similar methods to defeat your opponent," Lily explained. "And the use of fire is an excellent way to fight other fires."

"Oh, how so?" Pandora asked curiously.

"It's used to fight forest fires. You have a fire and you set smaller controlled fires around it to consume the fuel, when the two fires meet, the second fire has consumed all the fuel and the first fire goes out. Do you understand?"

"So it's a bit like having dinner with Gilderoy?" Padora said slowly. "When you are alone, you may eat whatever you wish. When you are eating with Lockhart, you need to try to eat your fill quickly and you must be careful of losing fingers."

"Exactly," Lily agreed.

"Then the logical conclusion is to get our own Dark Lord to defeat the Dark Lord Voldemort," she replied.

"What?!" the redhead spluttered. "That's not what I meant at all!"

"Makes sense, actually," Harry mused. "When you think about it, aren't Dark Lords the way magical society moves forward …?"

Dumbledore frowned. "Explain please."

"We've had, what, two Dark Lords within 50 years of each other? Both times it forced witches and wizards to band together, the Ministry to mobilise, the Wizengamot to pass a range of new legislation. Think about it, those so-called dark creature laws would never have passed muster if the Lords weren't terrified of hordes of slavering beasties joining a Dark Lord and running rampant through the wizarding world."

Remus cringed and tried to disappear in his seat.

"Sorry mate," said Harry apologetically. "'S not how I feel. I've been looking through a few of the Library's history books with Lily, trying to get a bead on how this world and the one I remember are different from each other. One of the things that struck me was just how … stagnant, I suppose the word is, wizarding society is."

"Oi!" Alice objected, "that's our home you're talking about!"

"Sorry, but it's true. Magical Britain is a highly conservative society, the Saudi Arabia of Europe you could say. Without a powerful external stimulus, the government and institutions prefer the status quo, and strongly resist any attempts to change it. I believe keeping the muggleborn without voice or influence is one of their major mechanisms for maintaining the status quo, since muggleborn are, by comparison at least, extremely progressive. Always keen for improvement. Like pushing for a representative democratic government. Bans on dark artefacts and heirlooms. Equal rights for muggleborn and sentient creatures. House elf and goblin emancipation. Abolition of trade and commercial monopolies. Full integration of muggleborn into all levels of society. Greater coordination with the muggle government. Etc etc. All ideas that muggleborn and their Progressive allies in the Wizengamot have championed. And none of which have seen any significant success, no offence, Headmaster," he shrugged apologetically. "Nor will they. All the corruption and inward-looking parochialism of British institutions stalemate any major reform. Unless something comes along to scare the crap out the peers of the realm and bureaucracy alike and motivates them into taking the less terrifying option, whatever reform that may be."

"I remember me teachers in primary school once telling me about the New Deal," Mary offered. "It was the most significant rollout of progressive legislation in muggle America. The only reason the rich, powerful President was able to ram it through a wizengamot of rich, powerful lords was because they were all terrified of a communist revolution."

"What's a commulist?" asked Frank, puzzled.

"Not important; what's important is all the massive social reforms were seen as the minimum sop necessary to appease the masses. To discourage them from uprising and putting all the lords' heads on pikes and stealing their property."

"Same basic principle," Harry nodded.

"What are you proposing?" demanded Marlene. "We have the Dark Lord, the Light Lord," she gestured towards Dumbledore, "and another Dark Lords all facing each other in a fight to determine the fate of the magical world? And hopefully that'll terrorise the Families into doing the right thing?"

"Not another Dark Lord," Pandora corrected. "A syndicate of Dark Lords. A council of Dark Lords. A democratic assembly of Dark Lords."

"Sounds like someone's been in the pipeweed again," muttered Alice to herself.

"You said it yourself, sir," Pandora addressed the Headmaster, "those Dark Lords went down dark paths because they followed a route they felt was necessary to their minds. They did whatever seemed right in their own eyes. In other words, they had nobody to check their excesses, to give them a slap and tell them off whenever they had a monumentally stupid idea, like I do to Peter all the time."

"It's true," Harry admitted. "She yelled at me just yesterday." He still winced at the talking to he'd received from both Pandora and Apolline regarding his 'appallingly inconsiderate shunning' of the French Veela. It was, he felt, a far too vigorous a talking to, given that it had been a perfectly reasonable misunderstanding. Could've happened to any bloke who's girlfriend's father was trying his darndest to sabotage their relationship.

"So to counterbalance stupidity and hubris," Pandora continued, balancing a third wand between her upper lip and nose, "we would need several Dark Lords of equal standing, to balance each other out. Sitting on a council or committee or whatever, just like the Four Founders. Each one takes an Unbreakable Vow to never lie or hide the truth from each other, and to follow the majority decision whenever an issue's taken to the vote. That way, if one or more go off the reservation, the rest can drag them back onto the right path and curb any excesses." Her piercing sapphire orbs swept her fellow HA members. "Hmmmm, one Lord or Lady from each House at a bare minimum. That way they can take charge of organising the defence of their House, run emergency drills, get their Housemates up to combat readiness, and so forth. Bags the Dark Ladyship of Ravenclaw!" she gave her patented terrifying grin. "On second thoughts, that sounds so blasé – the Science Lady of Ravenclaw! Much better! Bwahahahahahahahahahahahaha!"

Harry eyed James. "The Light Lord Potter of Gryffindor does have a nice ring to it," he offered.

"Bugger that!" Sirius interjected, "And bugger you too for suggesting it, Wormy! There must, nay, _can_ be only one Dark Lord of the House of Lions, and that is the Prank Lord Padfoot of Gryffindor!"

"Bite your tongue!" James grinned. "Or are you asking for a practical demonstration of the difference between regular brutality and Dark Lord brutality!?"

"Unfortunately we have no representatives for the 'Puffs," Frank mused in amusement.

"No need, I nominate Lily," Mary cried. "Oh hush, lass, ye're a born Hufflepuff if there ever was one! The Flower Lady of Hufflepuff! Nah, that's soft. Tyrannosaurus Lily of Hufflepuff! Nah. I ken, the Bleedy Lilly of Hufflepuff, all shall love Her Ladyship and Despair!" She collapsed into a fit of giggles.

"Which leaves Narcissa here as our sole Snake," Sirius drawled. "Congratulations, o Disguise Lady of Slytherin!"

The black-haired-once-more girl rolled her eyes at her fiancé's antics. "Stuck with a House of nobody," she grizzled good-naturedly.

"Guess the rest of us are your Dark Minions then," Ron said cheerily.

"We'll need to do this properly," Pandora mused. "I'll start putting together some application forms to distribute."

"Application forms?!" demanded James. "Now I really have heard everything, handing out applications for candidates for Dark Lord postions like Hogsmeade weekend forms! Honestly!"

"We're not going to call them that obviously, you dunderhead!" Pandora scolded the boy severely. "Only a fool would commit 'I am an aspiring Dark Lord' or variation thereof to paper! The applications will ostensibly be for something else, like consent forms for a Lovegood to exchange one's brain with that of a greak white shark …"

"I think that's enough headache-indcuing interaction for today's dosage of Headmaster-student relations," sighed Dumbledore. "Why don't you be on your way? By my reckoning, you're all now half an hour late for your next class."

"What's wrong, Headmaster?" Harry faux pouted. "Does the Leader of the Light not want to consort with a cabal of Dark Lords any longer? I feel so rejected!"

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	21. 19 A Cunning Plan

**Author's Note:**

This is a continuation/soft reboot of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse, with a bunch of changes. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" by Rorschach's Blot. Both are used with the permission of their original authors. The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter or anything else.

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Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.

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Canon-compliant. HP&DH compliant (except the Epilogue). HP&CC compliant (except the conclusion). FB&WTFT compliant. Pottermore compliant (mostly).

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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "Harry Potter - Three to Backstep" by Sinyk.

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Question of the Week: Can anyone even name a famous print journalist whose name _isn't_ Woodward or Berstein?

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 **Chapter 19 – A Cunning Plan**

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Don't tell me about the Press. I know _exactly_ who reads the papers. The Daily Mirror is read by the people who think they run the country. The Guardian is read by people who think they _ought_ to run the country. The Times is read by the people who actually _do_ run the country. The Daily Mail is read by the wives of the people who run the country. The Financial Times is read by people who _own_ the country. The Morning Star is read by people who think the country ought to be run by _another_ country. The Daily Telegraph is read by the people who think it _is_. The Sun readers don't care _who_ runs the country, as long as she's got big tits.

– _Yes, Prime Minister_

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"My friends, it is time to move to Stage Four of our plans," Harry announced pompously to his fellow HA members.

"We are? What were Stages One, Two and Three?" asked Mary in puzzlement.

"The previous stages aren't important right now," he replied impatiently. "What's important is that we now have the printing press up and running in the Shrieking Shack's basement; we now have funds; we now have a mountain of parchment and black ink; we now have a Chief Editor; and we now have a staff of investigative journalists." He gestured towards Dobby, who was bouncing up and down in extreme excitement at such a responsibility. The little elf wore a cave-diver's helmet, complete with torch, and a black ninja outfit with a giant notepad shoved halfway down his trousers. Anyone could see that he was immensely proud of his finery. "Dobby here is a former elf of House Malfoy, now free. He has kindly agreed to work for me in this venture to improve British society. Basically, Dobby is going to spy on everyone and anyone of importance in the wizarding world and report it to the Chief Editor, who'll turn it into copy. Like an honest Rita Skeeter. He's also going to try and find unbonded and unattached elves that may be interested in joining the team."

"I don't think it's possible for us to have completed Stage One," Pandora said slowly, "We don't even have a watermelon, giant rubber chicken or emergency mop and bucket."

"Aye, an' we never saw the lads doin' the can-can in magenta kilts for Stage Two," grinned Mary, jumping on the bandwagon. "But ye can make it up to us in the Great Hall at dinner tonight!" Leaning over to Lily she whispered loudly, "Ye can thank me later, Lily-flower." Lily rolled her eyes and elbowed her friend in the ribs.

"Was Stage Three Apolline and Lily fighting a magical war of attrition for the entire Christmas Break?" Marlene added her input. "Was almost chopping Apolline's father in half part of the plan too? I missed the memo."

"Can we stay on topic for _one_ meeting? Just one meeting?" Harry pleaded. The Marauders, Ron, Frank and Alice simply smirked and enjoyed the show. Apolline and Amélie were inscrutable as ever. Lily was perusing a scroll. Xeno was meditating on the shape of the footstool. They'd be no help.

"But if this isn't Stage Four then we shouldn't be calling it Stage Four; that would be false advertising, and simply consternate everyone," Pandora said innocently.

Harry rubbed his face. "We sure wouldn't want to cause consternation," he muttered sarcastically.

"Certainly not; then everyone'd be talking at cross-purposes and it's a slippery slope from there and the next thing you know, instead of fighting Voldemort and his lackeys we'd all be dressing up like human peacocks, or performing an ice skating re-enactment of Merlin and Morgana's torrid romance, complete with dance numbers and pink mankinis. Hmmm those actually sound quite appealing: let's do those things when the lake freezes over!"

"Sure why not," he said absently. "And now I have the great pleasure to present our Chief Editor and the HA's Minister for Propaganda, who I'm sure has some stirring words for us." Harry hastily took his seat.

A long silence followed.

Finally Harry hissed, "Odd, that's you! Get up there!"

"Hmm?" Odd's eyes swam into focus again. With a dazed smile he stood and addressed the group. "Thank you, Blubber. My glutinous colleague has announced the main points but one: please give a big round of applause for my partner in this endeavour, Miss Dolores Umbridge of the DCRMC."

Hermione cancelled her disillusionment jinx and appeared alongside Odd. The response was about what she'd expected: indifference from most, cringing, fear and not-so-veiled hatred from those who recognised her face and family name. Hermione sighed sadly, she'd already become used to her non-Purist colleagues at the Ministry treating her like a Blast-Ended Skrewt transfigured into female form. Ron gave her a thumbs up.

"Have you lost even more marbles?" Alice demanded of Harry and Xeno, all trace of good humour vanished in an instant. Her wand in hand, pointed threateningly at the woman in pink. "This _creature_ is the worst kind of Purist scum! She and her House have been aligning themselves with dark lords for centuries. She'll sell us out in a second, and we'll all be cooling our heels in Azkaban, if we don't end up in He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's dungeons!" The Marlene and Frank were in full agreement. The Marauders, Lily and Mary looked confused. Apolline and Amélie looked calculating. Pandora and Odd looked vacant.

"Please everyone, calm down!" Harry stepped in front of Umbridge, hands raised for peace. Ron quickly stepped up beside him, shielding Umbridge from their line of sight. "Dolores is alright, I promise. She won't sell us out."

"How do you know that?!"

"I can't say, but I assure you that Umbridge has my complete trust," Harry asserted confidently. He was painfully aware of the irony. _Mordred, I hate it when I start to sound like the old man._

"She's on our side?" Mary asked dubiously.

"Were you not ze one who spear'eaded ze new creature laws on Veela and werewolves?" Amélie piped up suddenly. The mood darkened further.

"Appearances do have to be maintained," Hermione responded primly.

"Miss Umbridge is our mole on the inside of the Ministry. Being a raging blood purist is her cover. She's been feeding me information for ages. Pandora and I are also appointing her our proxy in the Wizengamot for House Malfoy. Who better to help us than someone so deeply entrenched in the system?"

"I don't care how much you say you trust her, or how many bloody proxies she has." Alice was implacable. "Either she gives the same magical oath the rest of us gave to join this little group, or else I start obliviating!" There was a muttering of asset.

"Of course," said Hermione, unruffled. "I'd be worried if you didn't insist on that." She made the oath, and the others relaxed a bit and lowered their wands. The wands didn't disappear, but at least they were no longer aimed at her throat.

"As I was saying, Miss Umbridge has kindly volunteered to help Odd take down the Daily Prophet and replace it with our own gossip rag." Harry tried to get the meeting back on agenda.

"Don't call it a gossip rag Peter, it's an important tool to combat the disinformation that the Ministry is spreading, and the lies that the pureblood supremacists propagate," corrected Hermione, seating herself elegantly on the nearest sofa, looking for all the world as if being held at wandpoint were perfectly normal. "Now, for those wondering what sort of articles such a paper will carry, we envisage stories detailing the war effort, the real news not the sanitised drivel that people get usually spoon-fed. Tips for members of the public to prepare themselves for Death Eater attacks: warding, spare wands, exit strategies, emergency portkeys, safehouses, handy spells and jinxes for driving off attackers. That sort of thing. What's really going on in the muggle world and what that means for us wizarding folk. And if there's space, any other interesting pieces that will make people want to read it."

She nodded to the magiscientist. "Pandora has already given us some good pointers as to how to begin driving a wedge between our favourite halfblood Dark Thingy and his Traditionalist supporters." Odd raised his hand. "You don't have to raise your hand, Xenophilius, we're not in class. And you're going to be the editor, for Merlin's sakes, I'm sure we'd all like to hear your thoughts."

"I shall be composing a weekly column on magizoology, exotic travel, and the terrible secret truth that lies behind the illusory veneer of our world. Human interest stuff."

"What truth is that?" asked James curiously.

"It's far too terrible and secret to explain," Odd explained, "Suffice to say that knowing it would shatter your fragile mortal mind and turn you into a gibbering wreck, fruitlessly beating your fists against the horrifying eldritch labyrinth that is your new reality."

"Um, right … thank you Xenophilius," said Hermione. "Pandora, Peter tells me that your great-uncle Chaoticus works on the typesetting at the Prophet …?"

"He also doubles as the night watchman," Pandora chirped.

"Perfect. We're going to need his help to get us into the building. Could you please ask him if tomorrow night is doable?"

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Chaoticus Shalimar Lovegood, aka 'Bob', was more than happy to let his grand-niece and her two minions visit him at the Prophet's building at 3am to change the type for the morning edition.

"Thanks for your help," Hermione said gratefully to the burly bearded man. "Those are some impressive wards, I could feel their power from 100 feet away. I wouldn't want to try to brute-force our way through."

"Anything for my Perfect Princess Pandora," he gushed, mussing the girl's hair affectionately. "Witches and wizards are long past due for a wakeup call, in my book. Glad to see somebody's doing something about it! Just don't tell my girlfriend I was involved, I like sleeping in a bed. As to the wards, pure necessity. Plenty of witches and wizards out there with grudges and long memories, we have to be careful. The Prophet's offended just about every person in magical Britain at one time or another."

Pandora giggled and squirmed out of his grip. "But they never had to tangle with the mighty tide of SCIENCE!" she bellowed, fist raised in triumph. "Come minions, there is much Science to be done!" And with that, she spun away and raced down the stairwell to the basement. Amused, Hermione and Odd raced off to carry out their designated tasks.

It was the work of several minutes to re-set the type for the front page, then Bob started the presses for the morning run. The machines even had a feature that would collate and bind Xeno's first-edition run with the Prophet's as a lift-out. The two Lovegoods looked on in satisfaction at their handiwork.

Hermione joined them in the basement a short time later. "Done," she laughed. "This place is now more bugged than my cousin's centipede farm. And Rita's offer is on her desk."

Odd turned up at that moment. "According to the Prophet's staff policies, the master list of mailing addresses is to be locked in the safe in the Chief Editor's office at all times. I did a thorough diagnostic: the safe is made of solid iron with a mechanical lock, both heavily magic-resistant. Plus there's an additional layer of wards surrounding the safe, and on the inner compartment. There's no way I could Bruce force it. Even if we were to blow up the entire building, the safe would survive intact."

Hermione's shoulders slumped. "Oh well," she said in disappointment.

"Which is why it's a good thing that the Chief Editor left the mailing list on his desk under a pile of Playwizards." Her jaw dropped as Odd produced it. "He was even nice enough to have kept a few lists of customers who've cancelled their subscriptions over the last few years."

"Excellent," whispered Pandora, tenting her fingers in a sinister manner.

"Yes," cheered Hermione, "the more names and addresses we have the better. Good work, Xeno!" Examining the parchment, she noted, "This subscription list is tied with a Protean charm to another document."

"It's linked to a scroll in the cubicle of the unfortunate drone who's job it is to administrate the subscriptions. It's also linked to another one at the Post, so the owls know who to deliver to," Bob explained.

Odd cast the _Gemini_ charms to replicate the list, then casually threw the original into a corner. "Our copy is now self-updating with the master list."

The printing presses emitted a sharp ding, then fell silent. "And we're done," said Chaoticus. All around them the newspapers were magically stacked in neat piles. "Just in time. Look!"

Through the open skylight the first glimmers of dawn seeped through, lighting the enormous parliament of Post owls that silently swarmed into the vast room. Each swept down in graceful dive, grabbed a paper and flew out of a long gap in the wall – a continuous, silent stream flowed passed them. Hermione, Pandora and Odd looked on in wonder. The entrance of Post owls at Hogwarts' breakfast table was a poor reflection of these rolling cavalcades. It was over surprisingly fast, less than 10 minutes from their arrival the owls had departed and the basement was now empty of newspapers.

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There were more owls than usual at breakfast. Instead of the half dozen per table, including the teachers' table, the Daily Prophet was delivered to every single person in the Great Hall. Harry, who had opted to join his snoring wife at the Ravenclaw table this morning, raised his eyebrows at Xeno.

"I took the liberty of adding every current resident of Hogwarts to the mailing list," Odd grinned. His bleary, dark-ringed eyes lent his smile an alarming edge. "It's only fair they keep abreast of current events, right?" He leaned forward to whisper, "Miss Umbridge blackmailed someone in the Floo Registration Office to give us a list of all addresses on record. They've all been given 'free' subscriptions as well."

"And I took ze liberty of adding ze address of ze editor of every major French newspapier. And ze editor of every international newspapier zat has a bureau in France or on zis barbaric isle," Apolline whispered on his other side.

Harry laughed and clapped them on the shoulders. "Mighty generous of you and Selwyn."

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Young up-and-comer Rita Skeeter, star reporter of The Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly (in syndication) read through the odd looking missive that graced her desk this morning. The wording was archaic, the script near indecipherable, and the parchment bordered by strange strings of runes, but the import was clear enough: an offer of employment as a freelancer for a new paper. _"The Quibbler?" That name'll never work in the market, love._ Scrunching the paper into a ball, she lobbed it into the nearest trashcan and picked up her copy of the Prophet to peruse what illiterate swill her rivals had written this time. And promptly slipped off her desk in shock at the front page header:

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 _THE HALF-BLOOD DARK LORD!_

 _We Reveal He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's Shocking Secrets! Dark Lord's Birth Name Thomas Marvolo Riddle, After His Muggle Father!_

 _By Rita Skeeter and N. Igma_

 _._

The article described the Dark Lord's supposed backstory as the love-potion sired child of a Squib and Muggle, a backstory that he'd worked for decades to cover up. It detailed his childhood in a muggle orphanage, his exploits as a gang leader, his framing of Rubeus Hagrid while at Hogwarts, and most importantly, it listed the many purebloods whom he had personally murdered, including the Gaunt family, Hephzibah Smith, and a variety of Progressives who'd opposed him.

For further information, the reader was directed to the latest British magical newspaper, the bi-weekly _The Quibbler_ , the first edition of which was available as an exclusive lift-out in today's Prophet. As a reward to the Prophet's many loyal readers, every subscriber would receive _The Quibbler_ for free for a whole year.

Skeeter could feel the blood draining out of her. It was a barely passable imitation of her writing style, but she doubted her readers would notice or care. Someone had just painted a giant target on her back for every blood purist in the country. Her career and life were in clear and present danger.

"SKEETER! Get in here!"

She flinched at her Chief Editor's tone. Danger or not, her first priority was to try to avoid being bumped down to reporting on the mating habits of the tentacle monsters infesting the lower levels of the DMLE holding cells.

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"You called, Boss?" Bob asked cheerily as he sauntered into the Chief Editor's Office.

"Yes Bob," the Chief said through clenched teeth. "Have a seat."

Completely oblivious to the tense atmosphere, Bob reclined on the spare chair, extracted a pineapple from an expandable pocket and began to nibble at it joyfully, not bothering to peel the skin off first.

"Yes. Right. Bob, please explain to us how the lead story for today's edition changed from _"Wizengamot Outlaws Vigilantism"_ to … to _this!_ " He tossed a copy onto the table.

Bob was nonchalant. "I was about to start the print run this morning when Miss Skeeter rushed in and demanded I change the header immediately. Said it was breaking news. A hot scoop that couldn't wait. Said she'd already cleared it with you." He continued to eat the pineapple leaves, tuning out Rita's furious spluttering denials. After a while, he realised that someone was talking to him again. "What was that, Boss?"

"I said, are you absolutely _sure_ that it was Rita? And not say, someone else and you just weren't paying attention?"

Bob chewed thoughtfully. "Coulda been someone under a glamour or using polyjuice, I s'pose. Though I don't know how that person coulda gotten past the wards, or known the time I did the printing, or your name, or our staff publishing policies ..." His attention was distracted by a bright blue butterfly fluttering outside the office window. He was vaguely aware that the Editor had begun shouting at Rita.

"… going off half-cocked ... reckless chasing of scoops … tunnel-vision … next time tell, me, wake me up if you have to … that Merlin-damned 'scoop' of yours … booted me and the whole staff right to the top of the enemy list … every supporter of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named out for our blood … we're marked wizards … suggest you go home and take some time off … fully consider the consequences of your enthusiasm … I'm off to the Ministry to try and do some damage control ... maybe can save our hides from your idiocy …"

With a start, Bob realised that he must've fallen asleep at some point. Seeing the office was now empty, he threw the remains of his pineapple into the trash and stretched out on the Chief Editor's desk to grab a few winks. No sense letting a perfectly good piece of furniture go unused.

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Fuming, Rita stormed back to her desk. Digging through her trashcan, she had to fight off several paper-eating pookas to recover her prize. It was always good to have a backup source of employment. And Rita was certain that whoever had written the article was working hand-in-glove with the owners of the new publication. She intended to sniff these bastards out and wreak a horrific (literary) revenge on them!

She owled her acceptance to the return address. A few hours later, an owl returned with a message from Gringotts on behalf of their anonymous client. The instructions were simple: to continue her muckraking. From time to time, they would contact her with tips or topics of interest that would benefit from further investigation. To send any articles to a Gringotts-owned Post box. To identify a vault number to receive payment. A pay scale: 50 to 250 galleons per scoop was nothing to sneeze at. Hmm, so far they were covering their tracks. But nobody could hide from Rita Skeeter for long! Cracking her long, spiderlike fingers, Rita dove into her work with a vengeance.

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The next day was worse. The Prophet had agreed with the Ministry to print a front-page retraction of the 'fake news story'. The piece also decried the unlicenced and irresponsible rag The Quibbler, advising readers to shun it and to report any information about the scurrilous scallywags responsible for this prank to the proper authorities. The following morning, however, the front page had again changed from its original:

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 _RITA SKEETER FORCED TO FLEE DAILY PROPHET DUE TO THREATS FROM MINISTRY AND DARK FAMILIES!_

 _Heroic Reporter Persecuted for Daring to Speak the Truth the Powers-That-Be Don't Want You to Know!_

 _By Rita Skeeter and Sue Doe Nym_

 _._

Rita skimmed the purple prose with mounting horror: _"This intrepid seeker of truth is under siege from parties that wish to keep you ignorant … rest assured this fearless reporter will not rest on her laurels ... my firing from this paper due to political interference is becoming increasingly likely … fear not, gentle reader, I shall never be silenced … the public has a right to know the machinations of the powerful … to ensure my voice of truth continues to be heard, I have accepted a generous offer to contribute to The Quibbler on a permanent basis, in addition to the other fine publications in which you can find my investigative pieces ... watch for my regular columns there, many more explosive secrets will be revealed!"_ The article went on to describe certain levers that the Ministry used to secretly influence stories in the Prophet. Certain bribes and political concessions to the owners and editors of the Prophet.

She groaned in despair. Even if she could convince the Chief Editor that someone had framed her, there was no way he could publicly support her after such a public decrying of the Ministry and the editorial staff. Grabbing the few personal belongings she kept at the office, she glanced around furtively. It was too early for her colleagues to be in yet. She transformed into her beetle body and flew out the window. With any luck, she could get her belongings packed and moved before anyone else read the article. Her great-aunt Agnes Mapleflodder had an isolated cottage in Wales that would do for a bolt-hole until she could salvage this situation.

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The third day, the Prophet's basement disappeared.

The Chief Editor had hired a squad of six mercenaries to guard the printing presses after the second false header (the Ministry issued the Prophet a temporary exception licence to the official ban on mercenaries, hitwizards and other vigilantes). All six, and Chaoticus Lovegood, were found stunned and trussed up in the Chief Editor's Office when his secretary arrived at 9am, wands, potions and body armour missing.

The Editor was forced to contract cursebreakers to lift the _Fidelius_ from his basement. In the end, it had taken a dozen of Gringotts' finest a solid week to break the wards. Something about multiple networked wardstones, ley line reinforcements, specialised family magic, unknown rune clusters, etc, whatever, the staff didn't care as long as it was gone and they could get back to work. A week had passed, a week in which Witch Weekly, Teen Witch Weekly and The Quibbler were the only papers available to the public.

The second blow was the discovery that the entire contents of the basement were missing. The DMLE investigators opined that the _Fidelius_ was merely to delay discovery that the printing presses, stockpiles of paper, ink and spare parts, had been purloined. The Prophet was forced to sub-contract the printing to Witch Weekly to maintain a regular run. This meant working around WW's print schedule.

The third blow was more literal. As in, their entire office wing blew up one night. Upon observing the strange scorch marks, several Aurors who had spent time training on the Continent on Auror exchanges, commented that the pattern was remarkably similar to Veela-fire.

Due to the publication timing difficulties and the heavy costs involved in re-acquiring new presses, refurbishing their offices and re-warding the building, the Prophet had to reduce their publication schedule down to five days a week instead of seven, and take on hefty extra debt. Bob announced that even a Lovegood couldn't be expected to work under these conditions, quit and joined the type-setters at TWW. He noted that teen witches were likely a more discerning, sophisticated and appreciative audience than the average Prophet reader anyway.

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"What happens if Rita finds out who we are and what we've done? What if she blows our cover? I mean, there's no way she's going to take this sort of thing lying down." Ron asked at the next HA meeting. He read the latest lead of The Quibbler out loud:

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 _WHICH OF THE SACRED 28 ARE MUGGLE-LOVERS?_

 _Profiles of The Elite Pureblood Families who Grovel at The Feet of The Muggle-Raised Half-Blood Dark Lord (MRHBDL)!_

 _By Rita Skeeter and Sir Loin of Beefe_

 _._

"Who's she going to blow it to?" Hermione responded sensibly. "The Daily Prophet's still out for her blood, and I doubt Witch Weekly or Teen Witch Weekly will be particularly interested in our machinations." She gave a salute to Odd. "Great rune puzzle this week, Xeophilius – really had me stumped for ages."

Odd beamed in pride. Which gave him more than a passing resemblance to Bob in one of his manic moods.

"You're right though, if she can prove that we're responsible, it is conceivable that she'd be able to do a deal with the Prophet and Ministry to get herself reinstated – then all the hounds would be released against us," Hermione lectured. "That's why Xeno, Dobby and I've taken the liberty of writing up even-more-career-destroying articles that we'll drip-feed to the public over the next few weeks. Everybody in power will be baying for her blood, she'd be lynched before she could even open her mouth." She nodded at Odd who pulled a stack of parchment out of one of his socks and presented them to the group.

Remus skimmed over the titles.

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 _BUGGING THE WIZARDING WORLD: RITA SKEETER'S MOST PERSONAL INTERVIEW YET!_

 _Acclaimed investigative journalist Ms Skeeter sits down with our reporter Mr Hugh Jass for an intimate tête-á-tête to discuss her role as a Ministry spy. Illegal beetle animagus form used to uncover secrets on behalf of the Daily Prophet and various Ministry Departments!_

 _._

 _HOW TO FIGHT BACK!_

 _Tips and Strategies for Average Citizens to Make Death Eaters' Lives hell! Defend Yourself From Attack, and Make Them Wish They'd Chosen Real Careers!_

 _By Rita Skeeter and_ _Ollie Tabooger_

 _._

 _CORRUPTION IN THE MINISTRY!_

 _Bagnold's Bribes!_

 _By Rita Skeeter and_ _Yuri Nator_

 _._

 _DMLE DIRECTOR CROUCH: SENDING UPSTANDING PUREBLOODS TO AZKABAN WITHOUT TRIAL?_

 _Shocking Lack of Due Process Exposed!_

 _By Rita Skeeter and Oliver Klozoff_

 _._

 _BARTEMIUS CROUCH JR: BETRAYS WIZARDING WORLD, JOINS MRHBDL!_

 _Adolescent Rebellion, or Following his Father's Example?_

 _By Rita Skeeter and_ _Amanda Hugginkiss_

 _._

 _WANNABE DARK LORDS!_

 _A History of Halfblood and Muggleborn Dark Lords, and Where The MRHBDL Falls Short!_

 _By Rita Skeeter and Seymour Butz_

 _._

 _MORE SECRETS OF THE MRHBDL!_

 _Tom Riddle's Feverish Attempts to Erase His Muggle Past – Exposed!_

 _By Rita Skeeter and_ _Dixie Normus_

 _._

"Yo, Peter, there's one about you!" Remus tossed him the sheet.

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 _THE MYSTERIOUS MASSACRE OF THE MALFOY CLAN!_

 _By Rita Skeeter and Ivana Humpallotte_

 _New information indicates that the recent spate of accidental deaths of numerous members of prominent pureblood family the Malfoys may be the result of an ancient curse! Experts state that the Malfoy Family Rules explicitly prohibit marrying or serving any muggleborn or halfblood, a rule clearly broken by those who shamed themselves and their lineage by bowing and scraping to a MRHBDL. Evidence indicates that a series of dark curses are magically linked to the Rules and automatically punish violators, according to legend cast by the legendary founder of the Malfoy line, Sir Hildegaard Mal-Foi. The new Head of House Malfoy, Lord Peter Pettigrew-Potter-Black-Malfoy vows to never repeat the tragic mistakes of his forebears…_

 _._

"Sounds like the most rational and down-to-earth reasoning I've ever heard," Harry rumbled gravely.

"Morgana's icy tits, there'll be a frenzy! She'll have to flee the country!" exclaimed James. "Where'd you get all this information?"

"Some of it from here," she tapped Harry on the forehead, as he tried to swat her hand away. "The rest of it scraped together from snippets gathered by our house elf investigative team. Dobby managed to find eight other elves who've agreed to muckrake for The Quibbler. As for the Malfoy story, we just made that one up, of course."

"You made it up?!"

"Hey," she objected defensively, "if every other wizarding news outlet can make things up on a regular basis with total impunity, we at least should be able to have some artistic licence for a good cause!"

"But are we really justified making her a scapegoat like this?" asked Marlene uncomfortably. She and Lily had refused to take any part in destroying Skeeter's or the Prophet's reputations.

"Normally I'd baulk at something like that," Hermione admitted. "But Skeeter's done a lot of horrible things to people to build her career. I couldn't even count the number of lives and reputations she's destroyed with that poison pen of hers. But the part I find the worst is all the harping on Voldie being a halfblood," she sighed. "Pandora and Xeno assure me it's the most devastating stick we have to hit him with. And if you say something often enough, people will eventually internalise it." Her forefinger tapped in agitation. "I hate all this muggle-bashing! As if having any connection to the muggle world is something to be ashamed about!"

"To the Purists and Traditionalists it is," Pandora replied. "Think of it as using their own bigotry against them."

"Dye think outing the Dark Tosser as a 'MRHBDL' and all that rot will cause his followers to desert him?" Mary pondered.

"Extremely unlikely," replied Pandora.

"They're a bunch of fanatics," Hermione explained. Those with Dark Marks have bound their very souls to Voldie; even if they had second thoughts, walking away is a death sentence. No, come hell or high water, they're committed to the very bitter end. Most of his unmarked followers will probably stick it out too. At the end of the day, power is still power, and they'll probably calculate that it's better to stick with a supposedly all-powerful halfblood if he's going to win anyway. Besides, given how 'reliable' the wizarding press generally is, all the true believers would most likely simply dismiss it out of hand as lies and propaganda."

"But with some luck we can peel away a bunch of his Traditionalist backers and erode his financial support. Every bit helps," said Pandora.

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	22. 20 A Series of Unfortunate Events

**Author's Note:**

This is a continuation/soft reboot of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse, with a bunch of changes. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" by Rorschach's Blot. Both are used with the permission of their original authors. The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter or anything else.

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Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.

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Canon-compliant. HP&DH compliant (except the Epilogue). HP&CC compliant (except the conclusion). FB&WTFT compliant. Pottermore compliant (mostly).

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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "Lovegood, Boobs Gooder" by nonjon.

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Question of the Week: Where's the Beef?

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 **Chapter 20 – A Series of Unfortunate Events**

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We're in the stickiest situation since Sticky the stick insect got stuck on a sticky bun.

– Edmund Blackadder

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"Ugg," Harry groaned, pushing aside his latest tome. "When this war is over, I'm not going to so much as _think_ about a book for at least a year."

"What was that, Peter?" Lily's head poked around the veritable Great Wall of China of books that comprised her end of the table.

"Oh nothing, just muttering to myself," he replied hastily.

"So what was it you just said?" his study partner asked innocently.

"Just thinking about what we should look into today," he lied effortlessly.

"Oh? So it wasn't something about not studying after we've managed to find a way to kill You-Know-Who?" she persisted.

"Of course not, Lils," he said quickly. "You know I'd never say something like that." _Aloud where you could hear me._

"Okay," she chirped. "I'd planned to let you slack off a bit after we'd vanquished the You-Know-Who, but you're right, it _would_ be a bad idea wouldn't it? Not only might there still be Death Eaters and blood purists around but maybe even a new Dark Lord in the works." She nodded, not a trace of guile on her face. "Brilliant deduction, Pettigrew."

"Perhaps it would be okay to slack off for just a little while?" he suggested, recognizing the corner he'd painted himself into.

"No, you were right the first time," Lily said, twisting the knife. "In fact, maybe we should study extra hard because –"

"Enough, you win," Harry sighed. He really hated his life sometimes.

"Of course I do, Peter," Lily purred. "It serves you right for lying to me like that."

 _Sssservesss you right for not learning to keep your doltissssh thoughtssss inside your bloody head, Nagini giggled._

"So what do you think we should _study_ today?" his study partner asked, her tone dripping with smug satisfaction.

"Nothing from reference books," he said firmly, pushing them aside. "All the text is starting to run together. How about anatomy?" he suggested.

"You want to help me improve my knowledge of anatomy?" Lily said flatly. "Is that Peter-ese for 'what's your sign'?"

"I'm seri– I'm being straight with you," Harry insisted. "I learned heaps of anatomy from Nurse Joy and the Butchers' Guild over the summer."

"You want me to study under the apprentice of a small-time clinic nurse and a bunch of local butchers?" Her tone was still worryingly calm. Harry could tell he wasn't selling it.

"But it'll be a huge help with your research into illegal blood magic," he wheedled.

"I'm not getting involved in blood magic!" she shrieked.

"Well, what about sex magic then?" Mary offered hopefully, sitting down next to them. "Anatomy's dead useful for that field too."

"I think ye're good for the wee lassie," Mary whispered to Harry conspiratorially, after Lily had stormed off. "I havenna seen her unwind this much since we were thirdies."

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 _MERCENARIES BATTLE! AURORS HEPLESS!_

 _Recent Wiz Ban on Mercenaries and Hitwizards Ineffective! Gangs of Hired Wands Battle It Out in Wales! Rival Mercenary Companies Compete to Collect Gigantic Bounties on Members of McNair and Yaxley Families! Can The Aurors Do Anything About It?!_

 _By Rita Skeeter and Irma Stoopidmoronwithanuglyfaceandabigbuttandmybuttsmellsandiliketokissmyownbutt_

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Harry and Pandora sat at the table opposite the mysterious Durmstranger. He eyed her curiously. Xiomara Lucrezia Zabini, reclining in all her courtly dignity, did not appear as terrifying as her school's reputation would lead one to believe. Tall, lithe, with long ebony locks that fell to her mid-back. Slender aristocratic features. High, delicate cheekbones, aquiline nose, olive skin. Piercingly bright turquoise eyes. In posture and voice she was demure, but gave the subtle impression of being coiled to spring. She hadn't involved herself in the Gryffindor-Slytherin cold war, barely spoke to anyone outside of class, and wasn't in league with the Dark Tosser, else she would right now be a tenant of the Chamber with the rest of her fellow Durmstrang alumni. The only thing that prevented Harry from dismissing her as harmless was what he remembered about the reputation of the one who would/may sire Blaise Zabini.

"Thankyou for agreeing to this conference, Lord and Lady Malfoy," Xiomara began. She had a slight accent that Harry found impossible to place. "And for allowing me to meet your retainers," indicating Ron, Xeno and Apolline (the latter had somehow joined the group at some point without anyone realising it). The unused seventh-floor classroom they inhabited was deemed the most remote and most secure in this wing of Hogwarts, and thus the most appropriate for a discreet rendezvous.

"My parents have requested me to make overtures to the new Lord and Lady Malfoy. There are a number of outstanding issues that need to be resolved. I was given to understand that you may not yet be familiar with the history of dealings between the Malfoys and Zabinis?" Harry and Pandora nodded. "Then I shall do my best to enlighten you. Succinctly, the Zabini family is ancient. We have records of pureblood ancestry going back all the way to the Roman Empire, and networks of contacts across the Mediterranean. What we lack is wealth. Here in Britain, we are both poor _and_ foreign, the worst of all worlds. So we have no gold, our name means nothing, we do not have the generations of history required to build up reliable local contacts, and worst of all, we're not even the _somewhat acceptable_ type of foreign," she nodded towards Apolline. "Namely French, or from one of the British Colonies. No, who cares about a bunch of olive-farming wogs from faraway wog countries like us?" she snorted sarcastically.

"Is that why you attend Durmstrang instead of Hogwarts?" asked Pandora shrewdly.

Xiomara nodded gracefully. "It was felt by certain powerful parties that Hogwarts already had too many children of so-called 'dark families', and why would they wish to import more? Import! Ha! We have been living in this country for over 50 years." The faintest hint of irritation flitted across her flawless face for an instant. "Needless to say, these parties were successful in blocking my entry. Beauxbatons does not accept anyone who is not a French, Belgian, Andorran, Luxembourgian, Italian, Spanish or Portuguese citizen. We deemed Durmstrang the best alternative."

"Oh." Harry had no idea what to say to that. "Um, so how is it at Durmstrang?"

"Extremely cold. Extremely dark. It is mandatory to speak and write in German at all times. Except for spellcasting, which is in Old Norse, rather than Latin."

"I see …"

"In light of the situation our branch of the family faces, my father worked hard to establish a connection to the oldest and richest British House possible, as a foot in the door. Through cunning and perseverance, we eventually managed to forge an alliance with House Malfoy, to act as their trade representatives abroad, in exchange for their patronage. An agreement sealed through a betrothal contract between yours truly and an upstanding young scion of the House. I'm sure I don't have to say that the fact I'm the most beautiful witch of our generation" Apolline snorted disdainfully at this "was a large motivating factor for the Malfoys."

Folding her hands delicately, Xiomara said, "I was scheduled to marry Romulus Malfoy next spring; in the event that we could not get along with each other, the fallback option was his cousin Tiberius Malfoy. Sure, they were a few years older than me, but it was close enough and the best matches our family was likely to get given the circumstances. It was hoped that of our children, one or more would be given the name Zabini, to continue the family name, and would have the status necessary to be admitted into Hogwarts, and into British magical society generally."

Ron and Harry shared a glance.

"Sadly, however, it seems that poor Romulus accidentally brutally cut his own head off with an overpowered shaving charm during his morning ablutions. Terribly maladroit of him, if you ask me. And not a week later, poor Tiberius viciously stabbed himself in the stomach with the shaft of his croquet mallet in the middle of a friendly game with the Minister. Expired right there on the court before she could summon aid, I'm told. Such a tragedy. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that would you?" She eyed Harry shrewdly.

Ron whispered, "So much for being subtle, eh mate?" Harry elbowed him in the ribs and hissed for him to shut up.

"Uh, you ah, don't seem terribly broken up by the unfortunate demise of your fiancé(s)," Harry offered, not answering Zabini's question.

She shrugged. "It was arranged on my behalf, I never even met them. The first time we were due to see each other was scheduled to be on our wedding day. Naturally, that will no longer take place. Their deaths however, are of no matter in themselves, as my betrothal contract anticipated such a possibility."

Ron snorted. "Your contract anticipated the possibility of fatal shaving accidents?" he asked sarcastically.

She ignored him. "In the event of death or permanent disability, I would simply be required to marry another eligible young man of House Malfoy. Except they are now in short supply as well, victims of a series of unfortunate events. In fact, the only males of suitable age and lineage are in this room – yourself and Mr Fitzhallibut-Malfoy."

"So you're asking for my permission to marry Xenophilius?" he asked slowly. "Well, I have no objection, provided Pandora and Odd are willing." He glanced over at the pair in question, who had lost interest in the conversation some time ago. They were now at the far end of the room, busily casting measuring charms at a red piece of string and arguing quietly over how long it was.

"I'm afraid that's unacceptable," Xiomara said firmly.

"Why?" he asked in surprise.

"The terms of the betrothal are for an 'upstanding young scion of the House'. The Fitzhallibut-Malfoys are NOT considered a desirable clan, nor have they been for many generations. For obvious reasons," she sniffed. "And if you wish to cancel the outstanding contract, you are obliged, as the withdrawing party, to arrange an alternative marriage for me with a person of equal or higher social pedigree than Romulus and Tiberius."

"What are the terms?" asked Harry in defeat.

"The party must be from a pureblood House of good standing, who can trace their descent back at least seven generations, and whose families have sufficient business assets that are congruent with our own. Synergies, you know," she smirked. "Unfortunately, in an serious of even more unfortunate events, every pureblooded young man who fits that criteria at Hogwarts was a student of Durmstrang, Koldovstoretz or Slytherin – and you managed to dispatch every single one of them, in one night no less!" Xiomara eyed Harry speculatively. "You've certainly racked up an impressive body count in less than six months."

"Oi!" Ron shot to his feet. "Potter– I mean Peter, had nothing to do with any of that! The Aurors checked everything out, even put him under Veritaserum. You have no proof!"

Zabini favoured him with a scornful sneer. "Of course it was him, you simpering jester, everyone in school knows his Marauder friends were behind it! Just like they know that Lord Malfoy here is the one who pulls all the Marauders' strings. And he would be a right pathetic Lord if he left any evidence of his assassinations behind, wouldn't he? Now sit down and leave the talking to your betters."

"I don't have to put with this from a filthy dark Durmstranger!" Ron snarled – Zabini went for her wand – but was hit with a _Silencio_ from Harry, who was keen on moving things along before another Battle of Hogwarts could erupt. With a sharp jerk of his head, Harry indicated that Ron should go cool off somewhere else. After a moment of indecision, he threw his hands in the air and stormed off to see what Pandora and Odd were up to, leaving Apolline and Harry alone with the girl. A situation Apolline promptly took advantage of by plopping herself down on his lap and pulling his arms around her possessively.

"Um, yes. I'd like to apologise for my friend's behaviour; he's had a, uh, stressful few weeks," Harry tried to placate her, and to ignore the gorgeous blonde squirming in his lap. "I want you to know I have nothing against Durmstrang students per se, only some of the people who happened to have attended. The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin, you know." Xiomara relaxed and her wand vanished back into her sleeve.

Zabini nodded. "Not surprising. Perhaps you should have taken it up on its offer. 'Tis pity you didn't come to Durmstrang, it would've given me someone to talk to besides all the inbred invertebrates I was forced to reside with." Apolline giggled in approval but did not otherwise interrupt. "Though since you cleared away the dregs, life here has become most pleasant."

Harry shook his head. "Nah, far too obvious," he remarked, responding to the first part of her statement. "The best place for a true Slytherin is anywhere _but_ Slytherin. People are so blinded by House colours and school reputations these days that they'd never expect a meathead Gryffindor to be cunning or ambitious. You know," he mused, "I've come to think that Hufflepuff'd be the best House to join if one wanted to take over the wizarding world." He noted the looks of incredulous disbelief.

"Explain, mon amour!" Apolline ordered, frowning cutely.

"There's an old saying I heard a long time ago," he obliged. "'One Chinese person is a dragon, two are a bear and three are a mouse. Whereas one Japanese person is a mouse, two are a bear and three are a dragon.' Meaning that individually, each Chinese person is formidable, but the more of them that gather the more they'll disagree and fight with each other, so the larger the group the less of a threat they are. The Japanese on the other hand, being the complete opposite: one alone isn't a threat, but the more that accumulate the more they'll work together to achieve common objectives, so the larger the group the more formidable they become. I have no idea whether or not it's true about Chinese and Japanese people, but I think it applies pretty well to Hufflepuff vs the rest. If you're looking for an army of followers, would you want them to prioritise hard work, cooperation and loyalty to the group's goals, or would you prefer a bunch of people who, while brilliant or energetic or cunning, would all go their own ways and seek personal aggrandisement instead of supporting the group?" He smiled ruefully. "Not to mention that Puffs are often overlooked, so they'd make good spies; they're underestimated, so they can get away with far more without punishment; and that aforementioned loyalty means that even if they're caught, they'd be far less likely to rat out their friends or their cause."

"You are sure of zis?" Apolline demanded.

"I've been watching people in the different Houses for years. I'm sure," he said with certainty. The girls shared a glance and a silent discussion.

"I zink," Apolline said carefully, "zat you make some good points, Pierre. Per'aps Amélie and I will begin to pay regular visits to our colleagues in 'Ufflepuff. In ze name of inter-school cooperation of course."

"And the Durmstrang section of the dinner table is so empty and lonely these days," Xiomara added. "Hardly surprisingly that I would seek comfort and companionship from the friendliest and most welcoming House. Not like any other House would accept a 'filthy dark Durmstranger'. And I don't like to associate with the Gryffindor or Koldovstoretz students. Always undressing me with their eyes."

Apolline nodded in approval.

"Now that that is settled, can we get back to the business at hand?" Zabini said. "Pettigrew, whether you like it or not, you're the new Lord Malfoy, the Zabinis are still allied with your House, and we'd prefer to keep it that way. To continue our mutually profitable alliance, I need a Malfoy husband. And there is only one acceptable candidate."

Harry could feel a cold lump developing in the pit of his stomach. "Wait … you can't possibly mean …"

"Or would you rather we break off our alliance and join another dark family, throw the weight of all the Zabinis of the world behind a follower of the Dark Lord, supplementing his forces?" Xiomara continued remorselessly. "The title of Lady Malfoy is already taken, we can accept that," she gestured to Pandora, who was now measuring Gilderoy's skull with callipers, "but we do ask that I become Lady Potter or Lady Black."

"Ah, you should know that as soon as James and Sirius turn 17, I'll be renouncing Headship of their Houses and passing the Lordships on to them as my successors."

The olive-skinned girl looked nonplussed. "Why in Merlin's name would you do that?" she demanded hotly. "I thought you at least had more than a few brain cells to rub together!"

Harry opened his mouth, but was beaten to the punch. "Zat is private family business you are not yet privy to, mademoiselle Zabini. We zank you for your candour and will take your desires into consideration. However, Lord Malfoy will not be making any such momentous decisions in 'aste. And any major changes to 'is 'ouse'old must first be discussed and agreed between myself, Lady Malfoy and ze 'Ead Girl. Eez zat not right, mon chévalier?" She twisted around to an impossible angle to search his eyes. Harry sighed in relief and agreed.

Zabini and Delacour shared another quick, silent discussion with their remarkable eyes. Xiomara reluctantly said, "That is … acceptable. But we will need a response fairly soon; within the next fortnight if possible, so the appropriate arrangements can be made. And in the meantime, I implore you, my Lord, not to do anything _rash_."

"When have I ever done anything rash?" Harry protested. The others did not bother to dignify that with a response.

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"I've said it before mate, but you truly have the worst luck. I don't think Ulcibert Edgarton the Egregiously Unlucky had anything on you." Ron muttered as they strolled toward the Great Hall. "Not only are you sporting the ugly mug of a Rat Bastard Traitor, not only are you entangled with a temperamental redhead, a crazy scientist and a crazy temperamental fire-spewing bird, but now you're attracting the dregs of Durmstrang too."

"Don't call her 'dregs'," Harry responded sharply. "The Zabinis are my allies, for better or worse. And I'd rather they stay my allies than become Voldemort's. In any case, I doubt she'll be a Durmstranger for much longer."

"Fine. But you can still be allies without having to shack up with that 'Hufflepuff'. Send 'er packing. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Hmmm let me think: she could take offense and poison me to death! Remember, she's Blaise Zabini's Mum! Have you forgotten what they said about her? A famous beauty, seven or eight husbands, became obscenely rich due to said husbands dying in a variety of unexpected ways ..."

Ron gulped. "Point. But hey, what do you have to worry about? That ritual whatchamacallit you did made you resistant to poison, dinnit? Sure took care of Bellatrix."

"It's not foolproof, 'Roy! And I've no doubt that Zabini's of the 'if at first you don't succeed, try, try again' school of thought. Even if one poison didn't work, she'd likely just keep on trying another after another until she hit upon one that actually worked."

"Blimey Pettigrew, how do you keep ending up in these situations?"

Ron's prognostications on the luck of one Harry Potter aka Peter Pettigrew aka Lord Potter-Black-Malfoy turned out to be sadly accurate once more, as worse was indeed to come. For as they passed through an open courtyard, they felt a tingle and chill in their bones which long familiarity had taught them to associate with only one thing.

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"Dirk, I need your help!" Harry shouted as he stormed into 'Ghostbusters.'

"Greetings my young apprentice, I've been expecting you," came a sinister voice.

"You have?" Harry asked his mentor in puzzlement. "How did you know I was coming? Is it some sort of bizarre and secret necromantic technique?"

Dirk sighed. Obviously his young apprentice had missed out on essential components of a proper muggleborn education. "Never mind, what's going on?" The kid dragged in another kid behind him. Taller and blonder.

"The Ministry has – wait a minute, I thought you said you didn't have any Proton Packs?!" Harry demanded.

Dirk hastily stowed the large metal-and-wired device he was tinkering with under the counter. "That's not what you think. It's just a bit of muggle garbage I'm disassembling. Looking to add a few charms to it and such. Not strictly legal, you understand, so I'll expect you to keep it under your hat. Okay? Now what was it that's got you so het up today that you came all the way from Hogwarts to see me?"

Harry eyed him suspiciously but continued. "I was going to say, the Ministry in all it's wisdom has decided it's a great idea to post tons of Dementors around Hogwarts. Frelling Dementors!"

Dirk almost fell out of his chair. "You're not serious?" he gasped.

Harry nodded seriously, too agitated to make the obvious pun. "The two of us were strolling through an open courtyard and the bloody things jumped us!"

"Sweet Morgana! How many of them were there?"

"At least half a dozen."

Dirk stared at him. "How are you still alive?"

"Eh?" Harry waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, that's not the problem; five or six Dementors are nothing. That's not what I'm upset about. It's the principle of the thing!"

Dirk looked torn between skepticism, awe and disbelief.

"He's right, 100 Dementors'd be no problem for our boy here!" the other kid stated proudly.

"I asked around. The official reason is they're there 'coz of so many students vanishing, the Malfoy massacre, the mercenaries running around all over the place, and the Death Easters. The DMLE felt it needed to beef up security at Hogwarts. Lots of Aurors, and lots of Dementors. They're going to be patrolling the castle and grounds for at least the rest of the year!"

"Guess we know where the precedent for our third year came from," the blond kid remarked. "Good ideas never die, eh mate?"

Harry groaned. "It's going to be hard enough to sneak out to Diagon on weekends under the watchful eyes of the teachers and Aurors and paintings and ghosts and Hogwarts house elves. All of whom I've no doubt have been instructed to keep me and my friends under particularly strict surveillance. But now I have to deal with soul-sucking demons as well!"

"I don't know why you're so surprised about all this happening," the blond kid said. "Seeing as how you're the one that started this snowball rolling in the first place!"

Dirk raised his eyes at that. He had no idea how a 16 year old student could possibly be responsible for any of this.

"I didn't expect things to get this out of hand!" Harry said defensively. "I seem to be saying that a lot," he added ruefully. "I still keep thinking this is like the old days; I know I've got to stop that."

Ron said, "Remember what Mad-Eye said: 1970's magical Britain is a magical powder-keg."

"In any case, I need to know magic that helps with Dementors, Dirk. I already know the _Patronus_ charm, but there's got to be other stuff that can affect the things. Otherwise how on earth can the Ministry order them around, and trap them like rats in Azkaban? I'm sure if they had their way they'd be floating around London eating all the souls they could right now."

Dirk slouched back into his easy chair. He pondered for a while, then got up to go into the back room. He emerged with a dusty tome which he passed to Harry, furtively rubbing off the mustard stains from the cover. "Not a lot around that can help you there, lad. The only other spell I've ever heard of that is effective against a Dementor is the Flown Charm, _Sirallecta_. Story says that it was specially crafted to destroy Dementors, by whom I've no idea. It can only be cast by great concentration and great amounts of magic. There've been many failed attempts to reproduce it. Only man I know who could probably teach you is Albus Dumbledore."

Harry sighed. "Great."

"I suggest you utilise your non-magical resources to do something about this," Dirk said, "And I'll do the same," before the Floo flared up and he had to take the call. Harry and Ron saw themselves out.

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Marximus McKinnon frowned when his daughters' owl flew through his office window to land on his desk. He'd just received a note from them yesterday. To get another one the next day, well that couldn't mean anything good. His expression darkened when he read the letter. "Mandy!"

"Sir?" the woman squeaked, hoping to all that was holy that she wasn't the reason for the expression on his face.

"Dementors have been placed around Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. For the 'safety' of the children," he growled. "I'll be at the Ministry for the rest of the day explaining to our esteemed leaders how unhappy I am to hear that they're responsible for those soul sucking monsters being anywhere near my daughters and one of my most important clients."

"Yes, sir," she agreed, her expression mirroring his. "None of the children have been hurt, have they?"

"Alice says that she and Frank and Peter are fine along with all their friends," he stated, muzzling a bit of his fury. "For now, at any rate. Though a bunch of the creatures decided to try snacking on our young Lordly client. Luckily he knew the charm to drive them off." He threw on his robes and stormed out of the room, returning a moment later with a look of unholy glee on his face. "On second thought, I'm a tax attorney. Mandy, I need you to contact Attila, Kublai and Temujin. Tell Murdia what happened and that I would take it as a personal favour if she'd accompany me to my meeting with the DMLE."

"Yes, sir," Mandy agreed with a wide toothy grin. Like they said, you want to fuck someone you get a lawyer. You want to fuck someone to death, you get a lawyer like Murdia Temujin. He'd look forward to pissing on the grave of the men and women who'd allowed soul sucking monsters near his innocent baby girls and youngest client.

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CI Diggler frowned when he read the note from McKinnon describing what had happened to his Yuletide assistant, DCI Pettigrew. Dementors attacking an employee of the Ministry? Such things were just not done. The old man threw a handful of Floo powder into the fire. "Union of Ministry Workers," he said calmly. Looked like it was time to remind the higher-ups of the sacristy of the bureaucracy.

Dozens of similar meetings were occurring throughout Diagon and its varied connected alleys as the common people heard what had happened and contacted their representatives to express their displeasure.

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DMLE Director Bartemius Crouch Sr looked up in annoyance when his aide burst in without knocking. This had better be good or he'd find himself a new aide and the unfortunate in front of him would learn just how unpleasant some Ministry jobs were. "What?" he barked.

"Sir, the head of the Necromancers' Guild is here with their lawyer, the representative for the Union of Ministry workers is here with her lawyer, the head of the butcher's union is here with his lawyer, the head of the healers guild is here with her lawyer, the head of the Diagon Alley Merchant's association is here with his lawyer, and Solicitor Marximus McKinnon is here accompanied by his lawyer, Murdia Temujin." The aide gulped. "They're all demanding to see you and none of them are happy."

"What's this about?"

"That's ... Sir, they're very, very 'unhappy' that you ordered the posting of Dementors around a school full of children." Though the word the half formed angry mob in the waiting room had used was 'caused' along with other words like 'negligence' and 'attempted murder.'

Crouch growled in frustration. He did not have time for this lethifold-shite. "Show in McKinnon and Temujin first, then—"

"They want to see you together, sir," the aide interjected. "They're insisting upon it."

"Damn." He sighed in resignation. "Show them in."

"Yes, sir."

To the Director's intense and visible displeasure, the group had picked up another three members while his aide was briefing him. "Lady Potter, Lady Black, Lady Malfoy," he turned on his smoothest dealing-with-tiresome-politicians brogue. "I thought you would be enjoying the current Wizengamot recess to gain some much deserved relaxation?"

"We had intended to, Director Crouch," Dorea smiled wolfishly. "Yet imagine my surprise when I discovered that _Dementors_ of all things had been removed from Azkaban and unleashed around schoolchildren, one of which happens to be my nephew, and another of which happens to be the Lord of my House."

"And I of course came back as soon as I could to assist my dear Aunty." Andromeda Tonks added coldly. "For the sake of the safety of two sisters, two cousins and the Lord of _my_ House. And rest assured, I was glad to properly inform Lady Longbottom, Lord Bones, Lord Weasley, Lord Prewett, and other upstanding citizens who I'm sure will be quite interested in also voicing their concerns."

The newly-minted proxy of House Malfoy merely folded her arms and glared.

It was the first and the worst meeting Crouch had about the issue that day, it would not be the last.

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 _DEMENTORS SENT TO HOGWARTS TO PREY ON WIZARDING CHILDREN!_

 _Inexplicable Decision by Minister Bagnold and DMLE Director Crouch Sends Soul-Sucking Demons to 'Guard' Your Children! Magical Britain's Magical Children Trapped Inside Hogwarts with 50 Dementors as Their Jailors! How Long Will It Be Until One of Them Is Kissed? Experts Debate!_

 _By Rita Skeeter and Biggus Dicus_

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The vast grey edifice of concrete and stone rose into the sky, dwarfing the surrounding peaks. Although no Dementors patrolled this gloomy prison, black clouds rolled around it and an icy chill hung in the air. The place was deserted, the nearest village 20 miles down the mountainside, except for a single, solitary figure that floated serenely over the battlements, and past the giant wrought-iron archway that dominated the vast entrance and inner courtyard, inscribed with the words: ' _Für Das Allgemeinwohl_.'

For The Greater Good.

Flying slowly to the uppermost terrace, the shadow slipped through the iron grate and made its way to the inner sanctum. Each barred gate and locked door swung open obligingly to grant passage, until the invader reached the final barrier. A swish and flick of a wand, and the thick steel door groaned and screamed in protest as it was warped beyond all recognition, folding in on itself until it was a twisted ball of metal, which was casually banished down the corridor.

An emaciated old man lay placidly on an equally old bed, the sole furniture in the cramped, mouldy cell, besides a single bookshelf holding five tattered tomes. He opened his rheumy eyes slowly, regarding his visitor with an indifferent gaze.

"So you have come, Voldemort," came the dry, raspy croak. "I thought you would, one day."

The dark figure removed its hood to reveal the long thin face, high cheekbones, smouldering red eyes and thick salt-and-pepper curls of one Tom Marvolo Riddle, self-styled Dark Lord of Britain. "You know why I'm here," the tall man hissed.

"Perhaps." The skeletal figure slowly sat up, ancient feet shifting to plant themselves on the hard stone floor. "You have travelled a long distance to visit me, Englishman, and good manners dictate a host provide proper satisfaction to his guest. Welcome to Nurmengard. I'm afraid I cannot offer you any refreshments except for rainwater." He nodded towards a rusty tap and wooden bucket on the far side of the room.

"Tell me what I wish to know," Voldemort ordered coldly.

The old man chuckled, a dusty, crinkled sort of sound. "Ah, the young. Always so very impatient. But let me see if I can divine your intentions. Even though I am so very far away, I still hear whispers and rumours of the outside world. A little bird tells me that your war in Britain is not going according to plan. The tide has turned against you."

Ignoring the Dark Lord's twitch of anger, the prisoner continued in his calm, measured rhythm. "I hear that your Death Eaters have large prices on their heads, and every hitwizard in Europe fills Britain from end to end to collect. I hear that House Malfoy has vanished from the face of the earth, removing their gold from your reach. I hear Octavius Nott and his family were decapitated, heads left on pikes in front of their own Manor. I hear that half of Fenrir Greyback's pack has been hunted down and cut to pieces. I hear that Crouch's footsoldiers have taken to using lethal force in the first instance, and the Wizengamot looks the other way. I hear that the newspapers tell all of Europe about your history and your heritage, encouraging your unmarked followers to distance themselves from you and your cause. I hear that the next generation of your disciples have been massacred to a man. It is unsurprising that given such a situation, a Dark Lord would look for other options."

The emaciated man slowly stood and walked towards the small, barred window in the corner, and looked out over the valley, unconcerned to turn his back on the menacing figure. "The obvious answer is to seek new allies. Natural choices would be the vampires, the Dementors and the giants. No doubt you are assiduously courting their favour as we speak. I have no contacts with these groups any more, and you have others who are better suited to the task, so that is not why you are here. A second obvious answer is to seek new magics, new weapons of devastating effect to force circumstances back in your favour." He gave a hacking laugh. "I too did the same thing when the tide turned against me. I searched the world for secret weapons, put whole cities of magical and muggle researchers to work."

"And what did you discover?"

"All their research is still being held in the Unaussprechlich files of the German Ministry of Magic. If you desire that knowledge, you will find it there."

"Yet it did not help you conquer."

"Ha! No, it did not help me conquer. None of my wonderful weapons of magic and steel and oil and atom were sufficient. And so I ended up here. My St Helena."

"Completely alone, trapped like a rat within your own prison's walls," Voldemort sneered.

"Not completely," the old crone corrected. "They are keeping one of my pet muggles in one of the basements. As far as I know he's still there, I haven't seen him in decades. I wonder what little Rudy Hess is up to these days," he mused.

Hobbling back to his bed, the skeletal wizard lowered his tired bones to the hard mattress, as if merely walking and talking had drained his strength. "No, there is but one reason I can think of that would motivate a personal visit, one object that you would desire out of all the artefacts in my treasure-vaults."

"The wand."

"The wand. I'm afraid your journey was pointless. I never had it."

"You lie!" spat the Dark Lord.

The wizened old man shrugged. "You may believe whatever you wish. Gregorovich's skills in wandlore were unsurpassed. Skills sufficient to fool even I. Even a Dark Lord is not infallible."

"You are trying to hide the truth from me! You desire to deny me and possess it for yourself once again!"

"Kill me then, Voldemort, if you truly believe that!" demanded the old man. "You will not win, you cannot win! The Elder Wand of Death will never, ever be yours! It's power is beyond the reach of mortals such as you and I!"

And Voldemort's fury broke: a burst of red light filled the prison room and the frail old body was lifted from its hard bed, frozen in its expression of shock. The Dark Lord Voldemort returned to the window, his wrath barely controllable. The body of the Dark Lord Grindelwald floating in tow.

"We shall see, old bag of bones," Voldemort hissed, "just who will win and who will possess the treasures of Death."

And in an instant the two of them were outside in the howling gale, flying through the tenebrous clouds back to Britain.

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	23. 21 Quid Pro Quo

**Author's Note:**

This is a continuation/soft reboot of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse, with a bunch of changes. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" by Rorschach's Blot. Both are used with the permission of their original authors. The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter or anything else.

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Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.

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Canon-compliant. HP&DH compliant (except the Epilogue). HP&CC compliant (except the conclusion). FB&WTFT compliant. Pottermore compliant (mostly).

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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "Supreme Champion" by Haugh Wards.

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Question of the Week: Can you move like Jagger?

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* * *

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 **Part 4: Mundungus Fletcher vs The Goblet of Fire**

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 **Chapter 21 – Quid Pro Quo**

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Time is on my side.

– The Rolling Stones

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Harry sighed.

"What's eating you now?" Lily Luna demanded, prodding his shoulder with one of her sharp little fingers. She hated it when he became all mopey. They stood in their favourite spot, the roof of the south wing. It gave them the best view of the rolling valleys and Black Lake. It also ensured that random students or teachers couldn't wander past and hear something they shouldn't. Far below them, they could see clusters of black-clad Dementors patrolling the grounds.

"Nothing."

"Harry James Peter Persimmony Pettigrew Potter-Black-Malfoy, you tell me what's bothering you this very instant!" She stamped her foot for emphasis. Wisely, he chose not to share how adorable that made her look.

"We need that Goblet, Elle, but Dumbledore's still being intransigent. 'Peter my boy, such a thing is far too old, too powerful and too dangerous to allow school students to tinker with. You have no idea of the consequences of miscalculation…' etc etc. And I have no leverage over him whatsoever. I mean, I could threaten to not tell him where the rest of Voldie's horcruxes are ..."

"So why not do that?"

"I already told him everything I knew about them," Harry admitted. "Besides, it feels really petty and selfish to hold back something we desperately need done to end the war, just to manipulate him into doing my bidding. How many people could die in the meantime, just to get him to cough up something that may not matter in the end?"

"So we find something else that he really wants. Something personal, nothing to do with the war. Then we offer to give it to him in exchange for the cup," Lily Luna said sensibly. "That's how I got Al and Scorpius to give me The Device."

"That's brilliant, Elle! Out of interest, what did you give them in exchange?" Lily Luna's stony silence and crossed arms suggested he best abandon this line of questioning immediately. "But what does Dumbledore want, that's the question …?"

"What sort of things does he desire more than anything?"

 _The old man will never tell us outright, so we have to think inductively, opined the Lynx. First, gather the intel._

Harry thought for a while. "According to him, when he looked into the Mirror of Erised he saw a nice pair of socks, I think. Complained that nobody ever gave him socks."

"Socks? _Really?_ A man who lives in a castle full of house elves can't get access to a decent stack of socks?"

"I'm pretty sure he was lying. Who wants to tell their fondest hopes and dreams to snot-nosed kid?"

"Hey!" Lily Luna objected.

"You're different of course," Harry hastened to say. "I'm sure the other Harry Potter confided in you about all sorts of things. And you know I'll tell you anything you want to know," he said soothingly. This seemed to mollify the girl.

"So what did he really see, I wonder?" she mused.

"Hmmm there was a book Skeeter published after his death. ' _The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore.'_ Dug up all sorts of things about his life. She got a bit of information from Bathilda Bagshot. I managed to have a chat with her too, on the lam from the Snatchers. Also spoke with his brother Abeforth over at the Hog's Head."

"Really? What did they say about him? Anything we can use?"

"A bunch of stuff about his youth. Did you know he was close to Grindelwald when he was a child? They had a big falling out after …" He trailed off and was silent for a long time, thinking furiously.

 _Pup, that's exactly the sort of audacious and recklessly stupid scheme I'd expect from a Marauder, cheered the Grim. I've never been so proud!_

"Elle," Harry said slowly. "We need to find Pandora and get some supplies." At her impatient clearing of the throat, he finally turned to face her. "How would you feel about using that ornament of yours to do something that violates every rule of time travel and dimension-hopping?"

"Oh Peter, this will be ever so much fun!" She laughed and clapped her hands in delight. "You know just what to say to a girl!"

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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Dumbledore smiled benevolently down upon one of his most brilliant and most exasperating students. A student who'd spent more time in his office in half a year than most students saw of it in seven. "What can I do for you today, young Mr Pettigrew? Another scheme to inform me of, no doubt."

"Your powers of deduction continue to serve you well, Headmaster," an amused Harry replied.

"I trust that this one does not involve recruiting more Dark Lords and Ladies?", eyes twinkling merrily.

Harry laughed, "Rest assured, Professor, the HA and their shenanigans are more than enough to keep me occupied without adding more members to my workload."

"That is indeed a relief, dear boy. So what then brings you to my office this fine evening?"

"I'm afraid I must revisit something we've discussed on a number of occasions. I insist that you obtain the Goblet of Fire for me. It may be the key to winning the war."

Dumbledore's genial smile vanished. "I'm afraid I must disappoint you then, Mr Pettigrew. My answer remains the same."

"I had a feeling you might be obstinate about this. Therefore, I've come up with a new approach to the problem."

"Oh?"

"It's very simple: you give me the Goblet, and in return I'll give you something you very much want. Quid pro quo."

"My dear boy, I very much regret to say that nothing you have could possibly make me change … my … mind …" His voice trailed off as he saw what Harry had produced.

"Yes, it's exactly what you're thinking," said Harry, as he placed the enlarged wizarding photograph onto Dumbledore's desk. In the shot, a grinning Lily Luna waved at them. Next to her stood a befuddled Ariana and Abeforth Dumbledore. The latter was holding up a copy of the Daily Prophet with yesterday's date. In the background of the frame, a young strapping pair of miscreants, clad only in their underwear, were trussed up against a large tree. Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald in turn glowered at the camera, at Lily Luna, and at each other.

"This is a joke," he accused harshly. His joyful eyes had turned cold as granite.

Harry shook his head firmly, acutely aware of the powerful currents of magic that were swirling around the office. "No. Never. We'd never joke about something like this, sir. I wouldn't play with your feelings in such a cruel way," he said gently.

Dumbledore scrutinised him for a while. Seeing the frank sincerity in the boy's eyes, he finally slumped back in his chair. The swirl of magic subsided, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

"H-how …?"

"… is this possible?" Harry finished. "Time travel of course."

"Impossible!" Dumbledore denied loudly. "It is utterly impossible to use a time turner to go back more than five weeks from its point of origin. That has been tested for years and proved! I've done my own research on the subject, and the conclusion is inescapable!"

Harry raised an eyebrow. So Dumbledore had considered using time travel to prevent the death of his sister. Made sense, a man like Dumbledore would likely investigate every possibility to its fullest extent. _I wonder why he never used The Device then? Perhaps it hasn't been invented yet._

"Using an ordinary time turner, that's true," he responded. "But my confederate here has access to a device that can bypass those limitations." He was aware of the unspoken question, but refused to elaborate. "I don't know how any of this stuff works, so I couldn't begin to explain it. Neither could my friend."

"I … I cannot agree to your proposal," Dumbledore said, after another long, pensive silence. "What you're suggesting could completely destroy our timeline, and cause catastrophic flow-on effects in ways that cannot possibly be anticipated. It could mean the end of the whole world. I cannot risk such a calamity for my own selfish reasons."

Harry's heart almost broke at the raw pain in his mentor's voice. "Too late. It's already done. I'm sure you saw the date of the newspaper in the photo." He tapped it with his finger. "They're already here in our time. As you can see, the universe has not imploded in on itself. Reality has not started cracking apart. If I hadn't told you, you wouldn't have noticed a single thing amiss. And since the school isn't crawling with Unspeakables as we speak, I'm sure the Ministry is unaware of it as well."

He placed another wizarding photo onto the desk. This one showed an exhausted and heavily pregnant young woman in a bed surrounded by Healers. Lily Luna sat in a chair patting the woman's hand comfortingly. The equipment in the background suggested this was St Mungos. The calendar on the wall was also dated to yesterday.

"You may be interested to know that my confederate also grabbed Merope Gaunt, who was about to give birth to everyone's favourite genocidal maniac. She's currently receiving the best care St Mungos can provide. Once she's discharged, I intend to adopt Miss Gaunt and her son into House Malfoy. The House has been very empty with so many former members now deceased. And I have a giant Manor that's sitting idle. Needs a housekeeper to keep things in order. Maybe assign a few house elves. Lots of gardens and parkland for a little tyke to run around in."

Harry stood up and ambled to the window. He noticed that Fawkes' perch was still unoccupied. "Once Tommy-boy's a bit older, I'll take him to Gringotts for an inheritance test. I know the House of Slytherin is merely an honorific, there's no gold or land or titles tied to it. But we may be able to revive House Gaunt, which Miss Umbridge tells me is still on the Wizengamot's books, but has lain unclaimed since the death of the last Head, Morfin I think. Hopefully with a decent upbringing and caring relatives, Tom can make something constructive and positive out of himself."

He turned back to face Dumbledore, who was still staring at the photos in shock. "Unfortunately, bringing these people to the here and now has no effect on our present timeline, so we still have Voldemort and his minions to confront, that hasn't changed – more's the pity." His voice become gentle again. "Your choice is this: help me with what I need, and you can have Gellert, Ariana, a young Abeforth and a young you to raise as you see fit. Or say no, and they'll be obliviated and left with a kindly and obscure wizarding family in America or Australia. They'll have a happy and trouble-free life."

"Is that so?"

Harry suddenly found himself paralysed and struggling to breathe.

"And what," Dumbledore said mildly, "is stopping me from simply using Legilimency to find out where you're hiding them, and go and get them myself? It's not as if you could stop me."

 _Sssstupid ssssquib! Nagini hissed in fury. You sssshould have brought backup!_

Harry's head was suddenly released, but the rest of him remained immobile. "Because," he gasped, "I don't have them. I don't know where they are. You could turn my mind inside out and you'd find nothing of use. And if something happens to me, then my ally will know and you'll never see her or your loved ones ever again. Time is a big place. Not to mention that the HA and my proxies will tear Hogwarts apart looking for me. Or looking for revenge."

Dumbledore pondered that. Then, with a sigh, he released his captive. Harry slumped back into his chair bonelessly, panting like a dog, now that the crushing grip that surrounded him was gone.

"Forgive an old man for being so rough with you, child," Dumbledore whispered. He tented his hands on the desk. "All right, Mr Pettigrew, you win. What is it you want?" His voice was tired, defeated and dazed. A glass of water appeared in front of Harry.

"Several things. The first I've already mentioned: the Goblet of Fire. And the means to light it and enter contestants.

 _Yippee, more lists! the Otter cheered._

"(2) Organise permission from the Ministry for OWL students and older to have the Trace for underage magic removed from their wands, provided they're responsible about it. We're in the middle of a war of survival, preventing students from using their wands is suicide. I know there's an exception in the law for self-defence, but if even one student hesitates during a Death Eater attack worrying about getting in trouble with the DMLE, and gets hurt because of it, that's one too many. I'll tell Andromeda, Dorea and Dolores to give you whatever support you need in the Wizengamot.

"(3) The girl who's helping me, her father has been stuck in an endless time loop for several years. There was an accident, and a lot of time turners were damaged by spellfire, which caused some freaky magical field. I want you to investigate ways of undoing that loop so she can have him back. There are experts looking into it, who've made no progress in years. But they didn't have your genius on the case.

"(4) Give me the Resurrection Stone from the Gaunt Shack. Yes, I know what it is. And I'm sure you have it. I figure that if you have Ariana and Gellert, then you've no need for the trinket any more. Besides, the Potters are the last descendants of the Peveralls, so the Deathly Hallows belong to the House. It's the responsibility of the Head of House Potter to reclaim lost family heirlooms. As an aside though, I'd recommend not using the Elder Wand around Gellert. Just as a precaution."

"Duly noted," Dumbledore chuckled.

"And that's it."

"Deal," said Dumbledore immediately.

Harry was surprised. "That was awfully fast. I was expecting you to negotiate a bit."

The ancient wizard laughed. "Oh Peter, I would've done all that and much much more, I would've moved heaven and earth had I a chance to obtain what you're offering. Your fee is much lighter than I'm willing to pay. So yes, you have a deal."

"Great," said Harry in relief. Now that the bargain was struck, he took a sip from the glass of water. He wouldn't put it past the old coot to lace it with Veritaserum just to see what Harry spilled.

"I'm going to need more information about this time turner accident," the coot said thoughtfully. "Any details you can provide will help immensely."

"I can do that."

"I may need to call in some friends to assist me. Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel, I think. And some of my contacts in the Unspeakables will have valuable insight."

"That's fine."

"However, my concerns regarding the Goblet of Fire stand. I was not making up excuses simply to be difficult. Ancient magical artefacts like the Goblet are extremely dangerous in the hands of the unlearned. I greatly dislike the thought of students handling it."

"What if I promise no student will touch it or use magic on it?" Harry suggested. "We can give it to the HAHA to deal with, far far away from Hogwarts."

"That is acceptable."

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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The Headmaster strolled (i.e., raced) into the Infirmary. Harry was waiting for him.

"I see you got my message, sir."

Dumbledore nodded, but the power of speech had deserted him. Lying in four cots behind Harry, were four young people he thought he'd never seen again in this lifetime.

"Ah Headmaster, I'm glad you're here," Madame Valentine bustled up to them. "Mr Pettigrew shows up with four children who are most assuredly NOT students, claims that they're relatives of yours and that you'll be taking custody of them! This is extremely unorthodox, and I'm duty-bound to inform the Ministry in case these children are missing …"

"Madame Valentine, please explain to me why they are unconscious?" Dumbledore interrupted.

"They've been stunned. A simple _Rennervate_ will wake them."

Dumbledore glared at Harry, who shrugged insouciantly.

"They were being difficult."

Ignoring the increasingly vexed school nurse, the two males exchanged items.

"Here are their wands, Professor. You may want to get them more contemporary clothing. They'll need to get citizenship papers or whatnot from the Ministry, but I'm sure you've already got that covered. Oh, and here's all the details I could get about the time turner accident."

"Thankyou Mr Pettigrew. More than I can say."

"You're truly welcome, sir. I just wish I could've done this as a gift. Ah… you have the you-know-what, and the other you-know-what?"

"In my office. The password is 'Frobscottle'.

"Thanks."

"If you'll indulge an old man's curiosity, how exactly did your friend manage to 'acquire' them? I don't mean to boast, but Gellert and I were considered two of the most powerful and brilliant wizards of our age. And Abeforth is certainly no slouch when it comes to defending his loved ones."

"We had help from Pandora with that. You see, we knew that you and Gellert were close friends prior to your … falling out. So one day when the family was out, my ally planted these all over your house and grounds."

He reached into his pocket and drew out what looked like an ordinary pebble. "Looks pretty ordinary right? Pandora, Odd and Lily have been working on this project to store 'potential magic' in stones. Don't ask me how, my brain starts melting when they explain it. Something like 'potential energy' maybe. The upshot is, they've found a way to enchant stones so that any magic poured into it is held in stasis until a release spell is cast. You could store potentially any spell in it, leave the stone somewhere, and then when your target walks within range, cast the release spell. The stone will project the stored spell in every direction. Bit like a magical grenade. The range varies on how much power you've put into it. You can only use one type of spell per rock for some reason, but on the upside you can pour a heck of a lot of that one spell into it. As I said, the more you put into one, the bigger the impact. Pandora is working on a way to contain the power of the Killing Curse in a pebble. She's theorised that it's possible to create a stone that has the equivalent impact of more than 47 _Avada Kedavras_. They call it the 'AK-47'."

He rolled his eyes as the Headmaster and Nurse recoiled in horror. "Oh don't be so melodramatic. Can you imagine how useful this'd be if you were ever attacked by a dragon? Or a nundu? Or a chimaera? Throw the pebble, cast the release spell and apparate the hell away!"

"So your confederate …"

"Laid out dozens of stones with stunners and _Petrificus Totalis_ in them. As soon as everyone was there at the same time, she cast the release spell, and wham! Bob's your uncle. Or rather, Bob's Pandora's uncle." He giggled to himself. He'd have to share that one with his wife. "Then it was simply a matter of levitating everyone outside and putting The Device on them."

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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"We did it!" Harry cheered as he entered the lab, tossing the Resurrection Stone casually to Pandora. His scientist wife caught it mid-air without looking up from her calculations. "And Dolores has taken the Goblet back to her place for the next phase."

Looking around the mad scientist's laboratory, he noticed that a row of tables had be set up end to end to form a production line. Xeno and Lily Luna were busily assembling more blasting and stunning stones, the completed ones forming a large pile at one end. A house elf would occasionally pop in to deliver more supplies and remove waste products. He spotted Lily Luna surreptitiously swipe a handful of finished stones and sweep them into her pocket when Odd's attention was distracted by Harry's entrance. She grinned and winked mischievously when she saw that Harry had noticed.

"You did what exactly?" asked Lily Evans, emerging from behind a haphazard stack of generator parts and parts of cauldrons. She wiped her greasy hands with a spare towel emblazoned with a picture of a minotaur lustfully chasing a scantily-clad maiden. Beast and maiden paused in their pursuit to observe the conversation curiously.

"Uh… I'll let Pandora explain that to you," Harry said, like a complete coward. "But the important thing right now is that your magical stunning-stones worked perfectly! Congratulations to the both of you! That was some genius enchanting – even Dumbledore and Madame Valentine were right impressed!"

"Wonderful," purred Pandora, finally leaving her papers to give her husband an affectionate peck on the cheek. They shared a triumphant embrace for a while. "I'm so pleased our test was successful. It's so gratifying to have Red for a minion. She's so much more energetic and reliable than my last one. Minion Xeno spends all his free time these days on The Quibbler and with all those house elf spies you recruited. They're either working the printing presses or they're all exploring the Forbidden Forest for rare flora and fauna."

"But mistress sock-puppet, I'm right here helping!" the boy protested.

"For the last time, I'm your lab partner not your minion!" Lily hurled the balled-up towel at the blonde scientist.

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Hermione resisted the urge to cackle maniacally. _So Pandora Lovegood and Lily Evans think they can Science, do they?! Shows what they know!_ After all, it was _her_ Charms/Transfiguration Double Mastery thesis proposal on storing potential magical energy that had laid all the groundwork for Pandora and her cronies to make those stunning pebbles. Hermione was pleased that they had worked to perfection, and that they had allowed the HAHA to get its hands on the object of their planning. But really, it was such a small-minded, pedestrian use of such a monumental breakthrough in magical theory. It was obviously up to a true Mistress of Magic such as herself to demonstrate its full, awesome potential. That, that would be True Science™!

In the meantime, they had a pesky Dark Lord problem. Again. And it fell to her to find a way to get rid of him. Again. To that end, here she was putting the last touches onto the ritual circle she had created. Finishing, she sprinkled the area with powdered mithril, to enhance the magical potency of the rite she was about to perform. She silently blessed whichever Malfoy ancestor had the foresight to build an entire ritual room in the basement of the Manor. And to stock it with useful (and enormously expensive) supplies. The powdered mithril alone must've cost thousands of galleons. It certainly made the night's endeavour a lot easier.

"Okay, I'm done," she announced to her fellow conspirators. Dirk Murray the Ghostbuster and 'Bob' Lovegood the Typesetter/Nightwatchman grinned and gave her a thumbs up. Bob was so impressed by the muggle gesture Dirk had taught him that he'd insisted on its use whenever possible. "You two get our volunteers, Lily Luna you're with me."

Hermione led her favourite niece up the stairs and into the vast bedroom wing of the Manor. Presently they reached their destination. Inside, a pale witch lay sprawled out on the gigantic luxurious bed, her dark hair covering her face. In a crib in the corner, an infant slept peacefully. Hermione quickly stunned the witch, just to be sure. Then she approached the child. "This will only sting for a moment," she whispered as she cast the spell.

The baby squawked in protest but quickly settled again as Lily Luna cast a weak pain-numbing charm.

"They're all yours," Hermione said, pocketing the small vial of blood she'd just extracted. "Make sure you're gone at least a day in our time. A week would be better, just to be on the safe side."

"We'll see you in a week then," Lily Luna promised. "Bye, Aunt Hermione!" Taking the infant in her arms, she carried it over to the bed, placing him in his mothers' arms. Sitting down next to them, she adjusted the golden chain around her neck to encompass all three of them. Giving Hermione a cheery wave, she activated The Device, and with a soft whirr and bright flash, the trio were gone.

Hermione made her way back to the ritual room, wherein Dirk and Bob were ushering in two grimy, dishevelled denizens of Knockturn Alley. Her eyes widened, recognising none other than Order of the Phoenix member-to-be Mundungus Fletcher, and Snatcher-to-be Scabior. Much younger, but still just as dirty and unpleasant.

"We're here, now where's me gold?" demanded Fletcher. Scabior nodded in complete agreement.

"All in good time gentlemen," she said, reverting automatically to her smooth, clipped, no-nonsense Ministry-professional voice. So much more effective than that sickly-sweet simpering Umbridge was famous for. "Once we complete the test, you'll get your money and be on your way."

"What _is_ this test?" asked Scabior suspiciously. He was starting to look increasingly uncomfortable at being here. Hermione supposed she couldn't blame him for that. To be fair, these two had probably never seen a ritual room before, and had never had cause to imagine they might be hired to take part in one. To be unfair, these morons had agreed to go to an unknown place with unknown people to do an unknown job for a bit of gold. Such greed and/or lack of situational awareness was surely a sign of candidacy for the Darwin Awards.

"Simple: write your names on these parchments," indicating a side table with the relevant items, "and place them in the Goblet once I light it. Your real names, no aliases. You must have the full intention to complete the Three Tasks as you put the papers in the cup. If you don't, the magic may not take hold."

"What tasks?" Scabior insisted. Hermione gestured to the table on the other side of the room, and the items thereon. Scabior's eyebrows lifted. "Yer serious?"

Hermione nodded. Striding to the centre of the rune circle, she stood next to the magical artefact that was the nexus point of the ritual. She began to channel magic through the circle. Each rune, line and shape began to light up in turn, until the entire room was bathed in eldritch light. A soft humming filled the air. The two 'volunteers' shifted backwards nervously, but the exit was blocked by an unsmiling Bob.

Reading from the list of instructions Dumbledore had given Harry, Hermione began to chant in Latin. A blue light abruptly emitted from the Goblet, and the humming grew louder. Sparks and crackles of magical energy swirled around the room.

"As a duly appointed official of the British Ministry of Magic, I hereby declare the Triwizard Tournament of 1976 officially open! So mote it be!" she announced. A silent shudder of magic, thunder without sound, rippled through the room, and the interior of the Goblet burst into deep red flames, drowning out all off the colours that had heretofore filled the room. Hermione had to step back at the fierce heat emanating from the ancient artefact.

Presently, the heat cooled, and the fire receded within the bowl of the Goblet. The light from the flames cast oddly-shaped shadows onto the walls and floor.

"Now, if you will, gentlemen."

"This ain't gonna hurt us, is it? Or turn us into squibs or summat?" Mundungus queried tremulously.

"No," she said in her most reassuring voice. _Not you, at least._ "Provided you complete those Three Tasks, you'll be perfectly fine. The winner will even get a bonus of 50 galleons." That certainly got their attention. With another cautious look at the glowing Goblet of Fire, Mundungus scrawled out his name on a piece of parchment, approached the cup and cast it in. Seeing that his companion was unharmed, Scabior did likewise.

 _Showtime_ , Hermione thought. She reached into her pocket and drew out the scroll. It had taken Dobby two solid weeks of digging through Hogwarts to find a copy of one of Tom Riddle's old homework assignments. She had no idea whether Hogwarts kept old exams and assignments of previous years' students in permanent files and records, or whether Riddle had lost this one and it'd ended up in the Room of Lost Things. _Either way, Dobby deserves a lovely Reward-Sock._ Carefully tearing off the bit of parchment that contained Riddle's elegant, loopy signature, Hermione pulled out the vial of blood and poured the contents onto the scrap of paper. Once the paper had absorbed every drop, she then sprinkled more mithril dust onto it, rubbing it in. _Here goes nothing_ , she thought to herself, giving Dirk the parchment. She held her breath as he approached the Goblet and tossed the piece of parchment inside. The flames flared brightly for several minutes, but eventually returned to their low burn.

Hermione stepped up to the Goblet once more and tapped it with her wand. "As a duly appointed official of the British Ministry of Magic, I hereby begin the drawing of the competitors to the 1976 Triwizard Tournament!" The Goblet flared again, and a piece of paper flew out and into her hand. "Representing the bit of back-alley behind the porno theatre, is Mr Mundungus Fletcher!" Another parchment flew out of the cup and into her hand. "Representing the dungpile in the courtyard of Mrs Miggins' pie shop, Mr Scabior Scouries!" The two men glared at her.

Finally, what she'd been waiting for – a final scrap shot out at lightning speed, she was barely able to snatch it out of the air. "And finally, representing Little Hangleton, Mr Tom Marvolo Riddle!" Dirk and Bob cheered. Fletcher and Scabior were nonplussed. The Goblet gave a hum, and its fire died.

"Who's that then?" demanded Scabior.

"If he turns up, I'll introduce you," she retorted glibly. "And now, let the Tasks begin! The First Task will be: exploding snap! And the location, date and time shall be: right here and now! Let's get started."

Bob and Dirk set up the table and counted the cards to the two dubious contestants. The three bystanders amused themselves by betting on the outcome. This evolved into outright offering of bribes to their chosen champions, or to the competitor to throw the match. Eventually, Mundungus, with an amazing string of good luck, proved victorious. He received a perfect score of 30 (Hermione: 10, Dirk: 10, Bob: 10). A growling Scabior received a paltry 15 for his efforts (Hermione: 4, Dirk: 5, Bob: 6).

The Second Task, which followed immediately afterwards, was a fierce game of gobstones. Mundungus proved the stronger player, and won in record time. The judges gave him a score of 27 (Hermione: 9, Dirk: 8, Bob: 9) to his preening satisfaction. Scabior received a 12 for his valiant but vain attempts at a rearguard action (Hermione: 3, Dirk: 5, Bob: 4).

The Third and Final Task, was a wand-paper-rock tournament. Scabior handily won, mainly because Mundungus chose 'rock' every single time. This time he received the perfect score (Hermione: 10, Dirk: 10, Bob: 10) while Mundungus, for his shocking lack of creativity, obtained a not-so-respectable 3 (Hermione: 1, Dirk: 1, Bob: 1).

"As a duly appointed official of the British Ministry of Magic, I hereby declare Mundungus Fletcher, with an incredible score of 60, the Champion of 1976! Congratulations!" The three judges burst into a round of applause. Fletcher, sporting a look of both bemusement and delight, stepped forward to receive his prize: 10 galleons plus the 50 galleons bonus. He greedily began to count his winnings, biting down on the coins every now and again to test their authenticity. Scabior received his 10 galleons, grumbling all the way. Then the three paid out their promised bribes to the two competitors. Finally the transactions were completed.

"Thankyou for your assistance tonight gentlemen, your work here is now complete. Farewell." With that, Hermione pointed to the door. The two wastrels wasted no time making their exit. As soon as their backs were turned, Hermione swiftly brought up her wand and stunned both in the back.

"What do you want us to do with them, boss?" grinned Dirk.

"Obliviate Fletcher and dump him back in Knockturn. He can keep the gold, he's earned it."

"And the other one?"

"Take his gold and wand and throw him in the dungeons." Hermione's smile was manic. "I have a few plans for Mr Scabior-the-Snatcher."

"No problem." The two men hastened to fulfil their missions.

Hermione turned back to the unlit Goblet. One last thing to do. "As a duly appointed official of the British Ministry of Magic, I hereby declare the Triwizard Tournament of 1976 closed. The third competitor, Mr Tom Marvolo Riddle, for failing to complete or even attempt any of the Three Tasks of the Triwizard, is hereby judged to be in breach of his magical contract, and to be stripped of all his magic. So mote it be!" She tapped her wand onto the cup once more. Then the world went black.

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"Uurrgh," Hermione groaned as the universe swam back into view. The room spun crazily around her head, and she fought the urge to vomit. The light was way too bright. She tried to throw her hand over her eyes, and almost fell out of bed.

"She's awake!" a voice called from far off in the distance. "You okay, boss?"

"Wher'm I?"

"St Mungos. Healers say that you'll be fine, just some concussion and magical exhaustion."

"W'appn'd?"

"You blew up the basement is what happened." The relieved face of Dirk Murray came into focus. "Whole room's a charred mess. It's lucky we got you here so fast. Healers think you had a burst of accidental magic that deflected the worst of the blast around you, rather than through you."

"Gobbet?"

"Magic cup's in a million little pieces," Dirk replied cheerfully. "Guess we won't be doing that again, eh?"

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	24. 22 Gotta Catch 'Em All

**Author's Note:**

This is a continuation/soft reboot of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse, with a bunch of changes. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" by Rorschach's Blot. Both are used with the permission of their original authors. The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter or anything else.

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Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.

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Canon-compliant. HP&DH compliant (except the Epilogue). HP&CC compliant (except the conclusion). FB&WTFT compliant. Pottermore compliant (mostly).

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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "Poison Pen" by Genkai Fan.

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Question of the Week: Whatever happened to that game Snakes and Ladders?

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* * *

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 **Chapter 22 – Gotta Catch 'Em All**

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Chaos isn't a pit. Chaos is a ladder.

– _Game of Thrones_

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The Dark Lord Voldemort fell out of bed, shrieking in agony. It felt like every cell in his body was trying to explode simultaneously. Something, somewhere was drawing on his magic, trying to suck it out of him. Fiercely he resisted the violation, drawing on every ounce of strength he had, every last reserve of power, to pull back from oblivion.

His bootlicking dogsbodies of course fell into a complete panic, running around like headless cockatrices. Adding to the confusion were the bursts of accidental magic that the Dark Lord, in his pain, lashed out in all directions. Accidental magic from a child can be charming, or irritating, or terrifying, based on your mood or your knowledge of magic. Accidental magic from a frantic Dark Lord, however, is utterly devastating. Several minutes of his agonising pangs was enough to incinerate his bedroom, and the two adjoining rooms, setting his lickspittles to fleeing in abject terror before the twisting waves of power. Before long, the base was deserted. Except for a single prisoner in the dungeons below.

That prisoner calmly stood and wandlessly summoned a set of keys that someone had dropped in their haste to escape. It was the work of seconds to remove his heavy iron fetters and unlock his cell door. Strolling up the stairs, he collected a robe, boots, dragonhide gloves and a variety of wands that had likewise been dropped on the floor. Then he made his way to the pathetic figure writhing and twisting on the floor, nimbly sidestepping the (weakening) blasts of power that continued to spew forth. With a gesture, Voldemort's holly and phoenix feather wand was in his hand. He twirled it appreciatively, savouring its magical responsiveness.

"Tut tut, young Voldemort, you seem to be in a bit of a pickle. Or is it a bit of a jam? In a bit of some type of foodstuff, in any case." With a flick of the wand, his opponent was petrified and levitated. The prisoner scrutinised the Dark Lord carefully. "That must be extraordinarily painful, having your magic stripped from your very body and soul like that. Even more so than a regular wizard, given your vast reserves of magic. And to face the rest of your existence as little more than a squib? How terrible must be your despair. Never let it be said that Lord Grindelwald is not merciful: _Avada Kedavra!_ "

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Intensely motivated, it hadn't taken too long for the HA to reach the minimum standards required for Professor Flitwick to agree to train them – a mere three months. Shortly thereafter, they learned what a harsh taskmaster the Professor could be.

"Again!" Flitwick barked. "You wanted help, help is what you'll get! Your stamina is barely adequate, you need to be able to go all night if that's what it takes!"

They dragged themselves off the floor and prepared to run through the old sadist's drills once more. Drills which ranged from:

\- - the difficult:

"Five thousand sit-ups, Mr Pettigrew and Mr Lupin!" Flitwick demanded. "And since your fitness isn't quite so abysmal: six thousand push-ups, Miss Evans and Misses McKinnon!"

\- - to the dangerous:

"You want me to swim across the lake with you on my back?" James asked incredulously.

"Yes, Mr Potter, and then it will be Mr Longbottom's turn. And you're only permitted to breath twice," the half goblin agreed. "We need to build up that lung capacity! You need to be able to hold your breath for long periods of time."

The two boys glanced at each other.

"Well, I guess there and back won't be so bad," Frank said dubiously.

"Of course not," Flitwick agreed. "And once you've succeeded at that, we'll move on to doing it every morning after Professor Scamander and Hagrid have broken up the ice."

\- - to the bizarre:

"You want to suspend me from the North Tower from a clamp attached to my tongue overnight?!" Sirius demanded.

"To elongate it and build up its strength," Flitwick explained. "You can stop after you're able to lick your eyebrows and do fifty chin-ups with it."

"I can already lick all sorts of places already," the boy grumbled to himself.

"What was that, Mr Black?"

"Er, I said: is that so I'm able to yell out incantations no matter what?" Sirius asked, trying to make sense of things.

Flitwick nodded. "Among other reasons."

Later that month, the Professor gathered the HA in the Room of Requirement in lieu of their dinner. He sat on a raised dais eating a bowl of rice and two pickles.

"Do you know how one masters combat, my apprentices?" Filius asked.

"How, Professor?" asked Alice.

"The same way one masters any other skill," Filius replied. "Practice. I shall provoke as many life threatening situations for you as possible, I've found that the threat of death focuses the mind wonderfully. Now normally I would just send you out onto the grounds to fight the Dementor horde in an epic battle royale, however you can do that on your own time. In fact, I expect it. But for now, I have something else in mind."

"Gee, I hope it won't be too much trouble for you, Professor," Sirius said sarcastically, stomach rumbling loudly. "Wouldn't want you to interrupt your meal."

"Fear not, Mr Black," Flitwick stated. "It is much less appetising than it looks. Fortunately, I received it in trade rather than paying for it."

"In trade for what?"

"That's hardly important right now," he replied hastily. "Now to begin your death-defying training session."

"What do we need to do, Professor?" asked Lily, ever the teacher's pet.

"We'll start you off easy, I think." Filius smiled disarmingly. " _Confrigio! Bombarda Maxima! Reducto!_ "

The HA scattered in terror as the room exploded around them.

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"We did it!" a high voice shrieked in delight.

The other students in the Library looked up in irritation as a whirlwind of red and black bounded up to that odd lump Peter Pettigrew, launching herself into his lap. The exuberant girl cared not that this was supposed to be a place of reading and silent reflection, nor that the rest of the students were glaring in annoyance, nor that the force of her trajectory had knocked the startled boy, and herself, off his chair and smack back onto the floor. Throwing her arms around his neck, she peppered her face with happy kisses.

"Wediditwediditwediditwediditwedidit!" she squealed.

"Whu? Did what?" a dazed Harry managed.

"Snatching those six from the past and bringing them here fixed up everything! Everything! None of it ever happened, none! No blood wars, no dead friends, no resurrections and especially no fathers imprisoned in eternal time loops!"

"Really? That's wonderful news!"

"Isn't it?" Lily Luna chirped happily. "I have my Dad back! My Mum's not a nutter anymore! And it's all thanks to you and your genius idea, you wonderful rodent! Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!"

"Happy to help," he mumbled, thoroughly embarrassed by the girl's demonstrations of joy. "Al and James and Scorpius okay? We didn't accidentally wipe them from history or something did we?"

"No, they're fine; I only have two siblings now though. The other babies aren't exactly a priority for my parents; though I suppose I could casually 'suggest' the idea to them …"

"What I wouldn't give to be a mouse in the wall for _that_ conversation," Harry snickered. She beamed back at him.

"Once more into the breach, eh Wormy? Your skills of plowing through the female population never cease to amaze and inspire," Sirius smirked knowingly from his sitting-chair, peeking over the edge of the Auror training manual he'd filched from Charlus. "Insatiable boy; truly a credit to the Marauders."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Though you may want to avoid involving yourself with more redheads, mate; just a friendly word of advice. Makes it seem like your rubbing James' face in it, if you know what I mean."

And then the Librarian Madame Crabbe was upon them like the Wrath of Merlin, and their entire group was bodily ejected from the sanctuary of silence.

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Gellert Grindelwald reclined on a large cushion in his luxurious chair. A fire roared merrily. The Lestrange Manor may not be as magnificent as the Malfoys', but was not lacking in creature comforts. It was amazing what a hot four-hour bath, a hot meal, a dozen nutrient potions and some comfortable, fashionable robes could do to revitalise a person who'd spent over three decades in one gloomy prison or another. Now that was _real_ magic.

It was time to get to work. The backstabbing traitor Dumbledore had had 30 years' free rein over magical Europe; and what a milquetoast, aimless reign it had been! Grindelwald had a lot of catching up to do if he were to set the world to rights for The Greater Good. He reached out a wizened arm and seized the oil lamp on his side-table. It was ornate and made out of tarnished brass. An artefact that would not have looked out of place in a school rendition of the _Thousand and One Nights_. He rubbed it, and in true _Arabian Nights_ fashion a black tendril of smoke poured out of the spout and gradually took the form of a tall, handsome, dark-haired man, who glared at his summoner with open hatred. His glowing red eyes suggested a demon rather than the shade of a human being.

"Welcome back to us, Tom," Grindelwald began genially. The spirit snarled and darted towards him, absorbing into the man's eyes, nose and ears in an instant. The old wizard chuckled in amusement, then took a deep breath and blew firmly. The black cloud shot out of his mouth and, after a moment of confused swirling, re-formed into a puzzled human form.

"While you have clearly taken steps to keep your soul trapped on this plane of existence, you have barely enough magic to manifest as a ghost. Certainly not enough to possess even a flobberworm. Without regular infusions of magic from external sources, your soul will gradually haemorrhage what little magic it has left, until you become a mere muggle ghost. And since muggle ghosts last less than a year before dissolving into the aether …" He trailed off, letting that thought sink in. "Yet I am a merciful master," Grindelwald said, "and I will ensure you receive those necessary infusions of magic should you prove a faithful and loyal retainer."

The spirit hissed defiantly. "Or," Grindelwald continued unfazed, "I will simply re-seal you into that lamp and forget about you. Maybe in a few generations I'll gift it to one of my great-great-grandchildren to play with, but by that point, you won't be around to notice, of course."

The shade paced back and forth in agitation, while the old man looked on in amusement. Finally, making it's decision, Voldemort swung back and hissed, "You have a deal, sssslavemassster!"

"A rather rich accusation coming from one who has done such deeds as you have," Grindelwald responded mildly. "Let us begin: your first task is to tell me everything about the nature of the Dark Mark you've branded your cattle with. And then you're going to inform me of all your assets: names of followers, caches of gold and supplies, properties, blackmail material, magical knowledge, research, bought politicians and business leaders, and so forth. Then you're going to give me every scrap of intelligence you have gathered concerning Albus Dumbledore: his home, his defences, his routines, his actions over the past year, and _especially_ his wand."

The spirit's eyes widened.

Grindelwald cackled roughly. "I see you finally understand."

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Harry sat in the Hogwarts Infirmary being healed from his latest 'training session' with Professor Flitwick. Madame Valentine ran diagnostic charms over his body. The boy stared out the windows of the Hospital Wing, idly watching the Dementors float back and forth.

"Your potions regime coupled with a proper diet and your, ahem, 'conscientious exercise program', have had a wonderful effect on your health," she announced proudly. "You've increased in height by three inches and dropped from 160 to 130 pounds since the beginning of the school year, a remarkable achievement without magic. Hmmm, substantial muscle growth, no problems with reflexes … keep up the good work, young man. What does Professor Flitwick have your little group doing at the moment?"

"He's teaching us to disarm people, Madame Valentine."

"By means of the _Expelliarmus_?"

"No, by means of multiple Cutting Curses."

"I … see. Do try not to be clumsy then, Mr Pettigrew, re-attaching limbs is a difficult and tiresome process. I have enough on my plate without –"

Suddenly the Infirmary exploded into light and song. Phoenix flames swept through the room, and through the inhabitants. For a brief, shining second, Harry felt as if he were soaring through a crystal-clear sea of magic that shimmered and sparked all around him, and connected him to every other living thing on earth. In wonder he raised his hand, watching the flow of energy swirl around it and through it. Clenching, he could see the impact roll outwards like a ripple, affecting the entire universe in little ways, just as other ripples affected him. Then just as suddenly, the rainbow kaleidoscope was gone and he was back in his body on his own two feet in a mundane and colourless world. Dazed, he shook his head to clear it. Then became aware of a figure lying on a cot in front of him. Albus Dumbledore, his robes and flesh torn and tangled together, right arm and face charred almost beyond recognition. Became aware of Fawkes' frantic song and falling tears.

Harry froze in shock. He was powerfully assaulted by a memory of Dumbledore surrounded by green light and falling in slow motion off the edge of the Astronomy Tower. A thousand lit wands raised around a marble sepulchre as the sky wept.

He was shaken back into the real world by Madame Valentine pushing past him. "Floo St Mungos!" she screamed, trying desperately to stabilise the old man.

Harry almost tripped over himself sprinting to the Floo connection. Throwing a handful of powder into the fireplace he yelled, "St Mungos! Emergency Room!"

A bored face appeared on the other end of the connection. "Please state the nature of the medical emergency."

"Dumbledore's been critically injured! Looks like he's dying! Get Healers over to the Hogwarts' Infirmary NOW!" The bald man reeled back in shock. But in less than a minute, Healers were pouring out of the Floo. 10 minutes after them came a squad of grim-faced Aurors, led by Alastor Moody. Since Madame Valentine and the other Healers were busily trying to save the Headmaster, it fell to Harry to provide a report. But since he knew almost nothing about what had happened to the old man, it was a very short statement.

Moody eyed the agitated youth, who kept trying to peek over Madame Valentine's shoulder. Given his stature (or lack thereof) this was no easy task. Tiring of the boy's hopping up and down, he dragged the boy to the other side of the Hospital Wing. "Nothing ye can do about it, lad," he sighed, "best leave them to their work." He hesitated, eyes softening. "Never gets any easier, ye know, seein' comrades fall. But wailin' about it gets nobody nothin'. Only thing ye can do is learn what lessons ye can – and then work like hell to make sure it don't happen to yerself or anyone else."

Harry looked up at him with blurry eyes. "Thanks, Moody," he choked, when his throat began to work again.

"Don't mention it," the grizzled Auror replied roughly. "Now, off wit' ye. The Aurors' will get to the bottom of it. And the moment ye find out anything about this mess, ye tell me right smart, understand?"

Harry nodded.

"Attaboy. Robards, we got everything we can from here? Then let's move out!"

He felt numb, watching the Aurors hurriedly leave, except for Proudfoot who remained as a guard. Then he stood, strode to the Floo again and tossed in another handful of Floo powder. "Ministry of Magic, Dolores Umbridge's Office."

"Peter, what is it?"

"Dumbledore's been attacked," he said dumbly.

"Oh no! What happened?"

Harry shrugged helplessly.

"I'll see what I can find out," she abruptly disconnected.

Harry walked back to his dorm on autopilot.

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Bellatrix dived to the side to avoid Severus' _Sectumsepra_ curse. Smoothly springing upright she snapped off a chain of hexes. _Reducto! Engorgio Skullus! Ossis Effergo! Confrigo! Ruptura! Fulmina!_ Snape was a blur of motion as he deflected or sidestepped them.

"Faster!" commanded her mother from the sidelines. "In a real battle you won't have time to dither about so!"

Snape was sweating profusely. In the weeks since they had fled Hogwarts and Lord Black to join the newly militant Traditionalist faction, he and Bellatrix had duelled each other to exhaustion every morning. And then duelled Cygnus or Druella in the evening. Sometimes they duelled two-on-two, and sometimes it was three-on-one. Snape felt like he was being run through the wringer, but had to admit that his spellcasting speed and proficiency, as well as his physical fitness and situational awareness, had increased dramatically. This was an education, he had to admit, that had many advantages to the one at Hogwarts.

In the down-times while the were resting or recovering from injuries, Bellatrix and Snape were studying Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, Dark Arts and Combat Magic under several specially selected tutors. At night, they would sit for hours with Cygnus, Druella and their colleagues discussing the history of the wizarding world, magical philosophy and strategic theory. Snape couldn't remember a time when he'd felt so worn out, yet so satisfied with his lot. Here were no abusive fathers, no Marauders humiliating him, no disapproving professors, no uppity rats trying to get him killed, no oblivious mudbloods to send his heart through the shredder repeatedly.

Just as he prepared his counterattack, Cygnus Black III entered the room and called for an early halt to their practice. Forestalling his wife's imminent objection with an elegantly raised palm, he smoothly conjured a table and chairs and called for his house elf Manky to bring tea and water.

Snape collapsed into one of the chairs and gratefully drank from one of the bottles of cold water.

Bellatrix, completely unruffled – hair and makeup still perfect in spite of the vigorous spar she'd just taken part in – sat down gracefully and folded her legs like a proper pureblood lady. Her mother did likewise.

Allowing Manky to pour her tea, Bellatrix a cast a sidelong look at the crisp black Dark Marks adorning her mother and father's forearms, and felt a swell of jealous longing. She knew the oath the rat had extorted prevented her from ever having one of her own. Well, the Dark Lord would know of her loyalty and her (indirect) efforts on his behalf, nonetheless. Her Marked parents would act as a backchannel between her and Sevvie-pooh, and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. They could coordinate their activities to achieve mutual goals. And very soon the Dark Lord would conquer the morons running the Ministry of Magic, and become ruler. Then she could get a job with the Ministry, maybe as an Auror. She wouldn't be serving the Dark Lord would she? No, her magical oath certainly didn't preclude her from being a faithful employee of the legitimate government of magical Britain.

"Druella, Bellatrix, Severus, we must speak for a moment. There have been important developments to discuss." He took a sip of tea while contemplating how to break the news.

"As you know, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is an exceptional wizard, a genius of a kind that only appears once over many generations. In his magical explorations, he has delved far beyond the limits by which normal wizards and witches are constrained. Needless to say, such explorations of primordial and eldritch powers are extremely hazardous. It is a testament to his extreme skill that he has heretofore navigated such shoals unscathed. Unfortunately," Cygnus said regretfully, "that situation has changed: he has inadvertently lost his body due to the consequences of a minor miscalculation."

Bellatrix's eyes widened. "And he yet lives?" she asked incredulously.

Her father nodded. "Indeed. Another testament to his greatness. Yet another was his foresight in preparing for such a possibility. He secretly appointed a regent to rule in his stead, until such time as he is able to reconstruct his body. Have you heard anything of this?"

"There were some rumours," Bellatrix admitted, "of a prisoner who was recovered from the Continent. I do not know any details. Is he the one?"

Cygnus nodded, pleased at the intelligence-gathering prowess of his eldest child. "That too was the limit of my knowledge until today. It turns out that the regent is none other than Gellert Grindelwald himself!" He paused to savour the shocked silence.

"But husband, surely … I mean, Grindelwald is dead …?"

"I thought so too," admitted Cygnus, "however, it was a masterful deception by Dumbledore and the German Ministry. He is indeed alive, and the Dark Lord – once he discovered that – saw fit to rescue him from the fetters Dumbledore had imprisoned him in. This very morning, Lord Grindelwald summoned a council of all the Dark Lord's followers to update them on the news. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was also present, in sprit form."

He grinned giddily, a most un-Black-like expression if ever there was one. "The regent immediately launched a retaliatory strike, in case our enemies had caught wind of what happened and believed our forces to be weak and confused as a result. We landed a decisive blow that will ensure all who oppose us to continue to cower like the fearful curs they are!"

"What sort of blow?" Bellatrix asked breathlessly, onyx eyes gleaming in anticipation. Cygnus chuckled, and leaned back, taking a long draw of his tea while he stretched the anticipation out. He did so enjoy teasing his daughter, and he had so few opportunities to do so these days. Her eagerness was one of her most adorable qualities.

"Nothing much," he shrugged, "just an attack on the home of an insignificant blood-traitor named Albus Dumbledore." Dead silence.

"You didn't," Druella whispered.

"We did indeed. With our and the regent's combined knowledge we were able to exploit a number of weaknesses in his ward structure, and assaulted it _en masse_. I have only just returned from the raid."

"Why was he not at the school?" Snape asked in confusion. "It's term-time, he should be living at Hogwarts now shouldn't he?"

"Ordinarily yes. However, he was looking after a gaggle of young relatives and for some reason they were not attending Hogwarts. The old fool kept trying to shield them rather than combat us properly. It was his undoing."

"You mean …?"

"Incinerated the old meddler, obtained several hostages and a variety of magical equipment and burnt the place to the ground."

"Dumbledore's dead?" his wife demanded, her white-fisted grip on his arm tightening painfully.

"We think so. The last I saw of him, he was being banished into the flames of his own burning house by Lord Grindelwald, using the old fool's own wand, no less! Nevertheless, it's always best not to assume without checking the corpse for polyjuice. But even if he survived, he suffered grievously. For a man of his age, I would be very surprised if he lives through the night."

"Praise Morgana," Druella breathed.

"And now," her husband braced himself. This news would not go down so well. "We must pack our things. The regent has decided to relocate our forces outside of Europe."

"Run away?!" Bellatrix exploded, springing to her feet. "Right on the cusp of our complete victory?!" Severus was appalled, and could only nod in agreement.

"Please children, sit and listen for a moment," her father said in a placating tone. "Things are more complicated than you may think." His daughter stared at him rebelliously, fists on hips. "We are far from 'the cusp' of victory unfortunately. Our forces have been decimated by the actions of unknown enemies: the flower of our youth has vanished and the British Isles are crawling with the scum of the wizarding world who seek our heads for the sake of table-scraps. Crouch and his minions continue to hound us. The Wizengamot has just approved more funding to the DMLE, the largest increase in 300 years, solely for the purpose of hunting us down. That Quibbler rag continues to spread propaganda to poison the minds of wizarding folk. More and more of the fools among us are starting to believe the lies that our Lord was a muggle."

He shivered in disgust. "Lord Grindelwald's former allies in Germany, Eastern Europe and Italy face in similar difficulties. Many of their number remain behind bars. The European Ministries are uniformly hostile to any actions to restore The Greater Good to the civilised world. They are likely to keep up their short-sightedness for the foreseeable future."

He rose and began to pace absently as he spoke. "The regent has determined that we must rebuild our armies. In the 1940's, Lord Grindelwald was able to storm across Europe and Eurasia with thousands of wizards and millions of muggles at his command. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named attempted a more subtle approach here in Britain, but that is a long-term game, and it has not succeeded as well as we might hope. The past two years have resulted in significant reverses for us. But there _is_ a place where many of Lord Grindelwald's former allies reside. They are powerful, organised and numerous, and the local Ministry is impotent against them."

"Where, sir?" asked Snape.

"It is a land called Mahounihon, located on the opposite side of Asia," Cygnus answered. "I see you are dissatisfied with this decision, yet it is for the best. There is an old saying: 'avoid what is strong, attack what is weak'. Here our enemies are strong and entrenched – there our allies are strong and our enemies scattered and feckless. We shall sweep aside the last remnants of opposition, and use the country as a bridgehead from which we can launch our conquest of Britain and the rest of Europe."

"I don't like this at all," whined Bellatrix petulantly.

Her father ignored her, still looking intently into Snape's eyes. "You must understand, young man, that the world is much larger than Britain alone. This is all part of what is called 'The Great Game'. It is the greatest game of all, the fundamental struggle of all life. That which determines who has the right to rule the weak, the stupid and the impure. To drink deep of the bounty of the earth, of its people, and of its magic. Only those with the greatest skill, cunning and purity will attain this throne. The game has been going on for all eternity, every living thing participates: magical or mundane. The House of Black has played this game for many centuries, and several times we have come close to seizing the throne for our own. The family has determined that now is another moment of opportunity, where once again we stand poised to seize it. If only we can summon the will and the guile."

"Far out," Severus whispered in wonder.

Cygnus nodded indulgently. "The game of thrones _is_ a 'far out' game: swords, poison, spells, battles, maiming, killing," he explained patiently. It wasn't the poor boy's fault he'd had such a sheltered upbringing. His father was a _muggle_ , for Mordred's sake, who knows how deep the ignorance had infiltrated into his brain? "But the rewards, my boy … ah, the rewards …" He trailed off.

"Come," said the mistress of the house, "there is much that needs to be done."

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Harry awoke from his fitful slumber with a start. Looking around, he quickly ascertained that this time it was not caused by Kreacher leaning over him and staring into his soul while he slept. Instead, a silvery glowing otter sat on its hind legs, waiting for him to come to his senses.

"Meet me at the Shrieking Shack. Pronto!" the Patronus commanded, then dissipated.

Harry threw on a robe over his pyjamas, grabbed his wand and transformed into the rat. He racing down the tunnel to the Shack, where he found a singed and grimy Dolores Umbridge sitting tiredly in one of the rotting couches.

Shifting back into his human form, he demanded, "Hermione! Are you all right? What happened? Did you get hurt?" while frantically casting as many diagnostic charms as Nurse Joy had taught him.

"House attacked. Burned to a crisp. Luckily prepared so escaped. Not hurt, just tired." Her sentences were clipped and weary.

"But how? We had your place warded up the wazoo!" Harry put his wand away and squeezed in next to her, putting an arm carefully around her shoulders. She leaned into his embrace, glad for the support.

"Yes, the main house was. But there were only minimal protections on the rest of the grounds. They struck while I was out by the lake. The guest lodge and gazebo gave me cover, until they went down to _Fiendfyre_ Curses. Anti-apparition and anti-portkey jinxes were up so I couldn't escape that way."

"Merlin, I'm really sorry Hermione – this is all my fault, if I'd only thought to have the lake area covered by the _Fidelius_ as well …"

"Don't beat yourself up over it," she retorted sharply. "No ward scheme is invulnerable, and it's impossible to think of everything. We all have to step outside of our wards at some point, otherwise we'll all turn into crazy cat ladies."

Harry sniggered. "You're the expert on that." She poked him and he yelped as she hit a ticklish spot.

"Anyway, it's not a big deal. After all, it was only Umbridge's possessions that were destroyed. I had the only important things with me," she indicated her wand, Gringotts key and a little black book with a little golden lock.

"What's that?"

"My blackmail book. Or more specifically, the blackmail book I keep at home," she smiled sweetly.

"Is that why it's bound in black leather?"

"You can't go wrong with the classics," she shrugged. "This little thing is far more valuable than that woman's sickening kitten plates, hideous pink furniture, frills and doilies and lace coasters."

"I daresay it's a triumph for good taste! Those Death Eaters have heroically made the world a considerably more fashionable place," Harry snickered.

"I do hope my kneazles are all right though," Hermione sighed.

"Kreacher! Dobby! Flipsy! Flopsy!" The four elves materialised. "Go to Madame Umbridge's house and see if you can find her seven kneazles. You'll be able to recognise them by the pink bows they wear. Bring them to Malfoy Manor and make sure they're fed and given a bed or something to sleep on. Oh, and see if you can find any of her possessions that survived the fire and move them to an unused wing."

"Yes master," three voices chorused.

"Harry …"

"Nope, I won't hear another word about it – you're moving into Malfoy Manor tomorrow. No Death Eater can get through its war wards, it'd be suicide to try. Apparently they're powered by the convergence of ley lines at that exact spot in Wiltshire or something like that. Keeps the wardstones constantly charged by the earth's magical energy field. In fact, can you contact the Tonks and the Weasleys and see if you can convince them to move their families there as well? If the Death Eaters have gone after you for aligning House Malfoy with the Light, I don't doubt that the others're on the list too. The elves can reopen the Manor, re-stock the place with food, get the heating and Floos back on, and so forth."

Seeing how determined he was, Hermione reluctantly agreed.

A thought struck him. "Hey, if they locked the place down with anti-apparition and anti-portkey wards, how did you escape?"

Hermione grinned. There was a subtle shift of magic, and suddenly where his friend used to sit was a tawny barn owl.

"Hermione you brilliant witch!" Harry cheered, "You did it! And you're the first one!"

The owl puffed up proudly, as if to say, 'of course, was there ever any doubt?' He reached out his arm to her, and the bird awkwardly climbed on.

"Come on, let's get out of here. Wouldn't want to get caught out here by a flock of Dementors on a surprise inspection."

Making sure to be careful, Harry carried the newest animagus through the school and down to the Chamber of Secrets. She transformed back into a human and fell like a log onto Ron's bed, not bothering to shower or change. Harry pulled a blanket over her, and hopped into his own bed for a few hours of shuteye before dawn.

"Harry?" Hermione mumbled sleepily.

"Yes, Hermione?"

"What do you think we should do about all this?"

Harry pondered the situation. It was not a rational contemplation, though. He was at present a cauldron of grief and despair at the near-loss (or possibly actual-loss, it was too early to tell) of Dumbledore, of rage and impotent fury at his best friend losing the majority of her possessions and having to flee her home, of disgust at his 'relatives', Cygnus, Druella, Bellatrix, Regulus and the rest of them joining the Dark Lord (even though he wasn't surprised in the least) and not even having the decency to warn him of the upcoming attacks, of sympathetic pain for Lily's grief at her loss and abandonment by her oldest friend, Snape. Harry 'Pettigrew' Potter declared, in the full bloom of his rage, "Strike or be struck, Hermione. _Delenda sint!_ "

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 _DEATH EATERS HIT HOMES OF MINISTRY PERSONNEL!_

 _Disorganised Death Eaters Now Targeting Ministry Officials' Homes! Property and Lives of Traditionalists and Blood Purists No Longer Safe From Their Depredations! Find Out More Inside!_

 _By Rita Skeeter and Wang Liquin_

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Harry carefully strode around the room in a jaunty, arrogant gait, his supercilious sneer sliding disdainfully over all he surveyed. It was made considerably more difficult by the half-dozen reference books stacked on top of his head.

"Faster," his tutor 'Miss X' ordered. "You have important business to get to, you're a lord, you don't have time to waste ambling around. What are you doing, enjoying the scenery?"

Harry increased his pace, trying to maintain the superior swagger.

"I have some information for you about the Dark Lord," she remarked casually. "Apparently he's suffered some sort of magical accident and now exists solely as a shade." She sighed in disappointment as he tripped and tumbled to the ground, the pile of books thumping unceremoniously onto his head.

"Ouch!"

She gave him a sharp kick in the ribs.

"Ouch!"

"Get up and put those books on your head again. Now, march! If you can maintain that, I will tell you more information you seek." She watched him work at it for a while before deeming his efforts acceptable for now. "That raid on your Headmaster, and burning your friend's houses to the ground were both retaliatory strikes. They were parts of a much larger series of attacks that were intended as a rearguard action, masking the escape of their forces from Britain."

"Wait, did you say they're running away?"

"Strategic redeployment. Seems they've got a new captain at the wheel, and he's less than pleased at the Death Eaters' performance of late. Somebody you may have heard of, with the initials G.G.?"

"No way! You're sure?"

"That what the word is on the street. I admit to some skepticism myself, but I'm just passing on what I hear."

"Hmmmm. That does actually fill in a few unanswered questions," Harry said, his mind awhirl with the possible implications of this new development.

"I may also have heard a certain rumour about a certain shipment that a certain group of Purists may certainly be making tomorrow evening, if you feel like a bit of a retaliatory strike of your own."

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"My friends, I do believe we have ourselves an opportunity here," Hermione announced to the assembled Hogsmeade Axiliary of the Hogwarts Army. "Voldemort's forces are confused, disorganised, in the middle of a leadership transition and fleeing the country _en masse_. Now is the perfect time to sweep up the dregs. Summon our forces!" she commanded the HAHA, and watched in satisfaction as her bootlicking minions cheered and fell over themselves to carry out her orders.

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All was quiet on the western dock. The elite 3rd Supply and Logistics Division of the Death Eater forces flexed their elite logistical skills as they fell over each other to load up as much gold, wands, and magical supplies as they could onto the nondescript container ship berthed next to their warehouse. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Lord Grindelwald and the rest of high command (except for their Ministry moles) were already in Mahounihon, and they expected their equipment to follow soon. Everything in Gringotts had already been transferred to the Tokyo branch, but that still left a lot of materiel in secret supply dumps around Britain that needed to be collected, boxed and shipped.

Their work was made far more hazardous that it would otherwise be by the hordes of mercenaries and hitwizards roaming the country, in spite of the DMLE's best efforts to corral, imprison or deport them. Many of the most prominent Death Eater families had been decimated; why, just last week, the Parkinsons' Manor wards had somehow been breached, and the entire place burned down to the cinders. According to rumour, it had been a joint operation by five separate hitwizard teams. Word on the street was that pickings for the mercenaries had become slim now that most of their quarry had gone into hiding or lay behind powerful protections. That had led increasingly to streetfights over turf, on the one hand, and greater collaboration between the more clever units, on the other. Nobody knew whether the Parkinson family had gone down with the Manor, or escaped and fled the country, hiding out under adopted names abroad. It wasn't just the higher-ups who were feeling the pinch, either. Any corpse that was branded with a genuine Dark Mark, even if not on the bounty lists, received 500 galleons apiece. All of which served to sharpen their minds and hasten their hands.

Suddenly they heard the sound of a huge explosion in the distance, and felt the entire ward scheme (all six layers) shudder, then fail. The metal doors blew inwards in a shower of sparks. The warehouse quickly filled with choking smoke. Out of the smoke burst two figures in garish costumes.

"Prepare for trouble!" proclaimed Auror Jenny.

"And make it double!" bellowed Bob.

The murderous Death Eaters stared in revulsion at the duo's matching pink sports bras and tutus.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing in that getup?" one demanded.

"Just distracting you," Jenny replied, diving to the side to avoid the barrage of hexes.

"From what?" another shouted.

"From me! Tremble before my Science!" shouted Hermione, charging in from a different direction. Spotting the largest concentration of enemies, she banished a handful of tiny stones at them. Their derisive laughter was quickly silenced by the force of the concussion blast. "Taste the force of 100 Blasting Curses, bwahahahaha!" she laughed as their bodies bounced around like rag-dolls. _Hey, this maniacal laughter thing is really fun. I'm starting to understand why Pandora does it all the time._

"Looks like they're blasting off again," observed Dirk Murray.

"What the bloody hell are you people talking about?" demanded Vernon Dursley, hefting his cricket bat.

"That's not important," Hermione said. "What is important is, that's your cue."

"Cue for what?"

Hermione took a half step back, more than a bit afraid that the man's stupidity could turn out to be contagious; there's no way it could be natural, even taking into account the more-than-trivial possibility that several of his ancestors had interbred with howler monkeys. "Your cue to beat up anyone still conscious and loot the place down to the bedrock," she explained patiently.

"Right lads!" Vernon cheered, afro quivering in excitement. "Let's give these unnatural freaks what for!" The horde of muggle football hooligans, hockey players and amateur rugby enthusiasts gave a mighty cheer and rushed into the warehouse and onto the docks, bashing any moving Death Eater in sight.

"Some are trying to escape! Don't let them get away – we've gotta catch 'em all!" Jenny ordered.

Hermione turned to the Auror, who was putting on a nondescript robe to ward off the chilly evening air. "Ah, Jenny are you sure it's okay for you to be here? You're an Auror – won't you get into trouble if your superiors find out you're doing this?"

"I sure would! Which is why they can never find out right? Besides, I'm sure the Minister wouldn't be very pleased with what you're doing either, amirite?"

A mousy head poked through the hole in the building. "It's gotten so quiet – is everything over?" asked Petunia timidly.

Hermione looked around. The members of the HAHA and the muggle auxiliary group were busily scouring the area. A group dumped the unconscious Death Eaters into a pile, and another group dumped the captured booty into another pile for sorting. "I think you're in the clear," she affirmed.

Petunia gave a sigh of relief, then signalled to somebody out of sight. In a moment, she came in and set up a folding table. Six other ladies entered and began to lay out sandwiches, biscuits and thermostats of hot tea and soup. Soon Vernon and his compadres returned for the post-game water-cooler discussion, and to partake of the bounty.

"Thanks Pet," said Vernon gratefully as he sampled one of her corned beef sandwiches. "Delicious as always.

Petunia beamed, filled to bursting with pride at her man and his teammates, striking a blow on behalf of normal folks everywhere. _Take that, you freaks! Try to burn my house down with my family inside it, will you?!_ Hearing a swish and pop of magic, she turned to see Miss Umbridge wave her funny stick around, and the higgledy-piggledy pile of defeated foes vanish into thin air! Her eyes widened. Was there nothing this freakish magic could not do? "Um," she asked the formidable woman, "what will happen to those … gentlemen?"

"Fortunately, I live in a house with a large and variegated selection of dungeons," Hermione said in a businesslike manner, putting her stick away (much to Petunia's relief). "There's more than enough space to house this scum while we interrogate the lot of them."

"I'm glad they're off the streets and– aargh, bugs! Get away from the food!" Petunia squawked, making a shooing motion to try and swat the interloper.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. There was something awfully familiar – " _Accio water-beetle!_ " The large insect shot into her hand. Hermione scrutinised its markings carefully. "Well well well, Rita Skeeter I do believe. I did wonder when you'd start sticking your antennae into my business again. _Petrificus Totalis!_ " She conjured a glass jar and placed the frozen bug inside. _Déjà vu. Gotta remember to put air-holes in it this time. And some water._

"Is that not a … _normal_ bug?" asked Petunia.

Hermione shook her head. "No," she replied gravely. "This is a spy."

"Are there more out there?" Petunia shivered, looking around.

"Don't worry, there aren't any more. The HAHA is securing the site; they'll make sure nothing else is lurking about."

"Oh, thank goodness. I'm so relieved!"

"You needn't worry about these things, Miss Evans, we'll keep you safe. Besides, there's far worse things than spies and Death Eaters out there."

"Like what?" Petunia whispered fearfully, drawing closer to her idol for comfort.

"Like me." Hermione grinned wolfishly. Petunia looked at her in awe as she felt her heart pitter-patter.

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	25. 23 Delenda Sint

**Author's Note:**

This is a continuation/soft reboot of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse, with a bunch of changes. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" by Rorschach's Blot. Both are used with the permission of their original authors. The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter or anything else.

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Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.

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Canon-compliant. HP&DH compliant (except the Epilogue). HP&CC compliant (except the conclusion). FB&WTFT compliant. Pottermore compliant (mostly).

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Recommended Fanfictions of the Week: "Delenda Est" and "Para Bellum" by Lord Silvere and Claihm Solais.

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Question of the Week: Who would have thought, reading the innocent childish wonder that was HP&PS, that the final book HP&DH would turn out so dark?

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 **Chapter 23 – Delenda Sint**

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We extort and pilfer, we filch and sack, drink up me hearties, yo ho.

Maraud and embezzle and even highjack, drink up me hearties, yo ho.

– _Yo ho, Yo ho, A Pirate's Life for Me_

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Bypassing the Aurors and the medical orderlies was child's play. He slipped past the security cordon and a brief gesture sent the duty nurse and the guard inside the ward to sleep. The red plumed bird roosting on the headboard raised its head at his approach, blinked, and then returned to its slumber.

He strolled over to the medical chart of the unconscious figure and casually flicked through it. Tossing it onto the nearby table, he approached the magical IV drip. The device resembled a glowing blue lava lamp sitting on the bedside table. It pulsed periodically. The drip was enchanted to transport its contents into the patient's bloodstream a milligram at a time.

Removing the lid of the IV drip, the old man withdrew a vial from his sleeve and emptied the contents into it. The blue colour gradually changed into a deep blood-red, with occasional swirls of liquid gold. Closing the lid, he tapped the device with his wand, and it began to pulse once more. The patient stirred slightly, then gave a soft sigh and seemed to relax more.

"Wake up soon, Albus Dumbledore," the man whispered. "There are many tasks left for you to complete."

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 _EXCLUSIVE: DARK LORD NOW A SQUIB!_

 _Magical Britain Saved! MRHBDL Performs Ritual To Boost His Power; Own Incompetence Results in Stripping Himself of All Magic! MRHBDL Now a Helpless Squib Ghost! An Exclusive Report on This Bizarre and Freakish Event!_

 _By Rita Skeeter and Maya Normusbut_

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Hermione was the recipient of several glares and a number of odd looks as she took a seat in the pew with the rest of the bride's family. The marriage of Albert Runcorn to Lysandra-Rose Yaxley was big news in the Purist world, and the society pages had been bursting with details regarding the union of two such rising stars of the Ministry. Everything from dress designs to whether the third course would contain fish or aubergine. Witch Weekly was running bets on which high-flyer would become Minister of Magic first, once Bagnold retired (perhaps in the next century or two, given how tight her grip on the levers of power was). Observing that the cathedral was filled to capacity, Hermione wondered if a single member of the Purist faction was absent. Many of them were her peers and (former) allies within the government. So much the better for her. Ignoring them all, she sat patiently and bided her time until the time was right.

"And if anyone should have an objection, let them speak now or forever hold their ..."

"I have an objection," Hermione said loudly, interrupting the Druid in the rudest tone possible. "Scum like him has no business marrying a descendent of the Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy!"

This prompted shouts and cries of outrage. Many of the audience, already smarting from her 'betrayal' of the Purist cause, demanded that the interloper be thrown out into the street. Preferably with a dozen hexes to the face for company.

"Cease befouling our presence! You have no standing here, Umbridge!" snarled Artemesia Yaxley, the mother of the bride.

"Oh, but I do," Hermione said sweetly, "seeing as how the bride is the third cousin twice removed of our esteemed Lady Pandora Malfoy. Why, she's practically her daughter! Given such close familial bonds, Lord and Lady Malfoy were most concerned that such a near and dear relative would sully herself and by extension them, by rolling around in the muck with such a wretched excuse for faerie faeces as this."

"How dare you, you baseborn bottom-feeding harpy!" Albert Runcorn sputtered, "How dare you ... I demand satisfaction!"

"Agreed," Hermione said coldly. "Outside, now."

"To death or ..."

"Just death will do," Hermione interrupted.

"Agreed," Runcorn said with a cold smile. He looked forward to putting the blood-traitor bitch in her place. Before putting her into the ground. "I'm going to make you beg ..."

"Have you ever noticed how the smallest dogs tend to bark the loudest?" Hermione asked one of the guests, seemingly ignoring the groom.

"Outside, now!" barked Runcorn.

"So eager to meet your Maker," Hermione drawled as she followed her victim out onto the field of honour. Her gaze swept over the crowd until she latched onto a familiar face. "Director Crouch, would you care to officiate?"

"If your opponent agrees," Barty Crouch replied.

"I have no objections," Runcorn growled, his eyes fixed on Umbridge.

"Take your positions," Crouch ordered. The two opponents faced each other. "Duel is to the death, you will place your wands at low ready and begin when I signal with red sparks. Do you both understand and agree?"

"Yes," Runcorn growled.

"Of course," Hermione agreed cheerfully. "Is there any way we can hurry this along? I've got an appointment with a strapping young Keeper that I don't want to miss."

"Well," Crouch said with a lopsided grin. "I'm normally supposed to spend a few minutes trying to get the two of you to agree to put aside your differences, or at the very least change the conditions of the duel."

"We can skip that part," Runcorn said firmly.

"I concur," Hermione agreed.

"Then assume the position of low ready," Crouch ordered. He stepped off the field and raised his wand. "In three, two, one." Red sparks shot into the sky.

Runcorn took a moment to decide what spell he was going to start with, he wanted to savour the moment, to make the blood-traitor truly suffer. The thought that Umbridge could be any sort of threat never even crossed his mind. He was Albert Runcorn, high-ranking member of the DMLE, veteran Death Eater, slayer of dozens, and maimer of more. Umbridge on the other hand, in spite of her long lineage, was well known to be a whisker above a Squib. His mind made up, Runcorn raised his hand to fire the first curse and frowned when nothing happened. He knew he got the incantation right. He looked down at his wand hand and stared in confusion at the charred stump of ragged flesh that ended where his hand was supposed to begin. Had Umbridge hit him with some sort of illusion? The world seemed to spin as his legs disappeared and the arrogant man collapsed to the ground. _How is this happening?_ Runcorn wondered. _I am Albert Tullmius Runcorn, I am a Death Eater, I am the reason people are afraid to leave their homes at night! How is this happening?_ He looked up and into the tip of Umbridge's wand. "How?" He choked.

"You didn't honestly think you could defeat a member of House Malfoy did you, scum?" she simpered down at the broken body of her opponent. "Say goodbye, Albert."

"No, you can't, wait Dolores you –"

" _Reducto_ ," Hermione incanted. She calmly pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket to clean the spattered blood off her face. And then dodged automatically as a sharp sound reached her ears.

"Gyaaaaaahhh!" With a ferocious shriek, the bride burst forward from the masses and launched a dozen dark curses at the hated woman who'd just murdered her fiancé.

Hermione danced and weaved until finally she had a good line up. " _Reducto_ ," she cast at the ground beneath the incensed woman's feet. The explosion blew the woman three feet into the air, her falling arc lining up perfectly with Hermione's double-tap Cutting Curses. The bride dissolved into several quivering pieces.

The crowd stared in absolute silence.

"What a pity, Cousin Lysandra-Rose," Hermione intoned, her clipped voice carrying across the masses as she walked out of the duelling circle. "Surely one of such good breeding was perfectly aware that to interfere with a duel to the death is to enter oneself under the same conditions."

"What have you done, you stupid child?!" Artemisia screamed shrilly.

"Look at his arm," Hermione ordered. "He's a Death Eater, a slave that didn't even have the courage to meet his end like a man. We are Malfoys, Malfoys bow to no-one, not even to some so-called Dark Lord. I will not allow my House's blood to be _muddied_ by such as that." With that pronouncement, Hermione disappeared with a pop, leaving a very confused old woman behind.

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"You wished to speak with me, Chief Warlock?" Hermione asked politely, as the Auror guards ushered her into his St Mungos hospital ward. "I was so pleased to hear that you had regained consciousness – I do hope you're feeling better?" The old man was certainly looking a lot better, even seemed to have lost a lot of his wrinkles.

"Much better, thankyou, my dear. Do you have any idea what I wished to discuss?" Dumbledore asked gravely as she seated herself in the bedside chair.

"Not a clue, I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage," Hermione said innocently, thinking of any number of reasons that the Chief Warlock would want to speak with her.

"Your duel with Albert Runcorn," Dumbledore sighed. "The Ministry and Wizengamot are in quite the uproar about it, I'm told. Was it really necessary to kill him _and_ his bride?"

"He was a Death Eater," Hermione said simply. "And she tried to nail me in the back with an organ-melting hex." After those Marked bastards had burned down her houses with fiendfyre and injured poor Missus Mittens' hind leg, she was feeling less than charitable towards the entire lot of them. And the HAHA only had a small window before the lion's share of the scum fled the country.

"Yes, but ..." Dumbledore was at a loss for words. "Death is permanent."

"Wouldn't have killed him if I thought he'd be able to come back from it," Hermione replied cheerfully. That wasn't strictly true. It would have been more accurate to say that she'd have made sure to dismember the body, entomb each separate piece in stone, and then scatter the pieces to the four corners of the earth.

"The Runcorn line is going to end," Dumbledore said in exasperation. "And though Corban Yaxley is still alive somewhere, the DMLE has all but given up on ever finding him. Two ancient pureblood Houses, gone."

"Someone will come along to replace them," Hermione said with a shrug. "Hopefully better families, the Runcorns and Yaxleys were nothing more than leeches on society."

"I ..." Dumbledore stared at the prim woman in consternation. Butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. What had happened to the feckless chubby little girl that kept getting lost on her way to her classes? "That will be all, Madame Umbridge."

"A pleasure as always to speak with you, Professor Dumbledore," she said, standing. "I do wish you a swift recovery. If you have some time, please speak with Lord Malfoy, he has been most distressed by your injuries."

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"What'd Dumbledore want?" asked Dirk. The HAHA were using the master study of Malfoy Manor she had commandeered as their HQ for now. It had been a right pain setting up access for each individual member on a person-by-person basis, but given the dangerousness of the times, lowering the Malfoy wards to a less rigorous setting was not an option.

"Something about how we shouldn't kill Death Eaters," Hermione replied. "Nothing worth paying attention to."

"Does tell us that we shouldn't expect any help from the so-called Leader of the Light," Jim said thoughtfully.

"Something to keep in mind," Hermione agreed. "Come on. Let's get back to work."

"There's a new message in your in-tray, boss." Bob piped up. All mail to her house and office at the DCRMC had been redirected here (once it had been automatically scanned for spells or dangerous substances). Lovegood passed the note on to her. She read it in a glance.

"Looks like one of Pandora's former potential fiancés has sent her a 'love letter'," Hermione said dryly. "Mulciber, we meet again. Well either you or your father, I never could be bothered learning any of your family members' first names."

"What did it say?" Bob asked intently.

"Words to the effect that he didn't appreciate yours truly turning his step-sister Lysandra-Rose into pureblood paste at her own wedding. He intends to pursue their originally-proposed betrothal, and … well, that he'd take her by force if that should prove necessary," Hermione replied. "And once they're married, he'll ensure she learns her proper place and makes proper penance for Miss Yaxley's demise."

"What are we gonna do, boss?" asked the burly, bearded man, teeth grinding at the thought of somebody even _thinking_ about doing such things to his cute grand-niece.

"I'm going to respond to this note in proper Purist fashion." Hermione grinned wolfishly. "Think the new Malfoys aren't powerful enough to respond, do you, Mr Mulciber? Heh, or maybe you thought I'd ignore a chance to put more of you bastards into the ground while you're still on British soil?" The Ministry was unlikely to take an interest in the affair thanks to the note this Death Eater had been stupid enough to send.

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Auror Captain Pius Thicknesse was proud of the fact that he managed to keep his breakfast down, his subordinates weren't so lucky. The crime scene was one of the worst he'd ever seen, more terrible then anything the Death Eaters had ever done before. There were two stiffs without their skins and the latest from forensics was that the poor bastards had been alive until the very end. "Do we have an ID on the stiffs?" he asked the man St Mungos had sent over.

"It's Enoch Mulciber and his son Arnt," the Healer replied confidently.

"Mulciber?" Pius frowned in confusion. "Our latest intel was that they were highly placed Death Eaters, why in Merlin's name would they do this to two of their own?"

"If they were Death Eaters then why in Merlin's name didn't you arrest them?" the Healer growled.

"No evidence and no witnesses," Pius said sourly. "You know it's a war and I know it's a war, but the higher ups need a bit more convincing."

"Bastards!" the Healer barked. "And to answer your question, I'm not sure Death Eaters had anything to do with this one."

"How do you know?" Pius demanded.

"Found this in the left one's mouth." The Healer held up a sheet of paper. "Fascinating reading."

It only took the Captain a couple of seconds to finish the note. "Malfoy." His voice was neutral. Who'd have guessed that the cute little blonde girl who'd hitched piggyback rides from her mother on her way to work at the Ministry each morning would turn out like this?

"Got any evidence that she was behind this?" the Healer asked with a grin.

"Not a shred," Pius replied cheerfully. "Which is why I'm not going to arrest her."

"Not like she'd get convicted anyway," the Healer commented. "Public wouldn't stand for it if the contents of that little note got around."

"I take it that I'm not the first one you showed this to?" Pius asked dangerously.

"You are," the Healer said quickly. "I'd wager my assistant showed it to a fair number before turning it over to me, though. Can't find anyone that's willing to accompany me to your crime scenes that can keep their bloody mouths shut."

"What do you want to bet that the Malfoy girl won't get bothered by lonely young wizards looking for dates?" Pius laughed.

"No bet," the Healer said with a grin. "Not after what's happened to their previous 'suitors'."

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"Peter my boy, it is wonderful to see you."

"Not half as good as it is to see you, I'll wager," Harry replied happily, a tear in his eye. He walked into the hospital ward wherein his mentor was convalescing and sat down next to the old man. Dumbledore was looking surprisingly chipper, considering he'd been at death's door a mere week ago. "You seem well – better than well, in fact. You're not stooping like you used to, your wrinkles have mostly disappeared, and is your hair turning red?"

The Headmaster chuckled. "A most frank analysis, far more so than any mediwitch has given me so far. I _do_ seem to be experiencing some age reversion, an effect I'm sure of Fawkes' tears combined with the alchemical concoctions that my old friend Nicholas Flamel prepared to aid me."

"Speaking of which, where _is_ Fawkes?"

"Getting some much needed rest, no doubt," Dumbledore said. "Keeping vigil over me for the past fortnight was surely wearisome.

"It was difficult to get in to see you," Harry observed. "I must have had to get through five different security cordons. There must be more Aurors in St Mungos than Healers or patients!"

"Indeed. The DMLE is concerned about the impact on morale should an assassin succeed in doing what my attackers almost achieved. Your associate Lady Malfoy suggested rather pointedly that I contact you, she said you were somewhat agitated by my condition."

Harry nodded. "Because it's all my fault," he moaned miserably. "They wouldn't have been able to get at you if you'd been at Hogwarts like you usually are. And the only reason you weren't there was because I –"

"Mr Pettigrew," Dumbledore interrupted gently, "you are not responsible for the actions of others. You did not order or lead the attack on my house."

"But it was _my_ idea to bring those four back," Harry insisted. "I arranged for them to be here. If I hadn't, then we couldn't have used the Goblet of Fire to strip Voldemort of his magic, and Grindelwald would never have escaped …"

"Someone as old and wise as Gellert would have found his way to freedom from Voldemort sooner or later. And he still would have sought a way to assault me as soon as he had the opportunity," the Chief Warlock said firmly. "Gellert and I have a long, long history, my boy. This is merely one more chapter in a long-ongoing struggle. Do not torment yourself with possibilities."

"But still –," Harry persisted.

"If you had not acted as you had," Dumbledore interrupted, "then I would never have had the chance to make amends with my family, or some version thereof; and Voldemort would still be running amuck, murdering, torturing and enslaving many."

The white room filled with silence for a while, each occupant absorbed with their thoughts.

"You … ah, don't have to worry about that timeloop thingie problem anymore …" Harry offered lamely. It was the only silver lining he could think of at the moment. "So that's one thing off your plate …"

"Is that so?"

"Yes, it seems removing the Dumbledores, Grindelwald, and young Tom Riddle and his mum from my friend's past has had some drastic consequences to her timeline. Her present is now quite a bit different than it was before."

"I've no doubt," the old man chuckled. "Do enlighten me, Mr Pettigrew."

"Well, for one, there were no first or second or third wizarding wars of the 20th century. She tells me everything is … well, extremely boring. Nothing dramatic or violent or exciting going on at all for over 100 years."

"Something I applaud wholeheartedly. Boring can be good."

"I feel the same way, sir."

"And she and her family remain unchanged?"

"More or less. Her aunt still became Minister for Magic, like before. Her Potter father did still meet the Weasley girl at Hogwarts and marry her, just like in her original timeline. Her parents do have fewer children this time round though, only three instead of seven!" Though thinking about it was another aching reminder of the Ginny Weasley that he himself had loved and lost. Still, there was no use moping about it anymore, Ron was right about that. Harry had a wife of his own to care for now, as well as two more sorta-kinda wives, that he hadn't the faintest idea how to deal with.

"She's bored out of her mind there though. It's all too peaceful and quiet for a restless soul like hers, she says; so I think we can expect to see a lot of her over the next few years. We sure have excitement enough to spare around here," he added sourly.

"Ah, the impetuosity of youth; always seeking after the next exciting moment."

"Her father's not Chief Auror this time around, you know. Now he's the Chief Baker of magical London. Head of the guild and all. I never saw that one coming; then again, I _have_ always enjoyed cooking … Home's a lot smaller and more modest as well. Bit more like the Weasleys' ancestral place, so his wife feels right at home …"

That brought another sobering thought to mind.

"I'm sorry you lost your house," Harry blurted awkwardly.

"It _is_ a painful blow. Nevertheless, you will realise as you grow older how little material possessions matter in the end. All my gold is stored at Gringotts, and the truly valuable artefacts and books are kept at Hogwarts. But even were that not the case, what really matters is people. Your family and friends."

Which only served to make Harry feel worse. "He's taken them," he said morosely. "Grindelwald's taken the … four you were looking after. We haven't been able to find out what happened to them … I … they're all leaving Britain you know. The whole bleeding lot. Like rats fleeing a sinking Atlantis. Many are scattering to different places all over, but the bulk seem to be heading to magical Asia, at least according to the intel Dolores has been able to unearth."

"Ah yes, it cannot be helped, my boy. Gellert is unlikely to have harmed them: whatever his flaws, he is not Voldemort. He is far more likely to try and recruit them to his cause; I am unsure which approach is more concerning." He paused in thought for a time. "In his heyday, Gellert was never one to strike without building up a substantial advantage first. It is imperative that we locate the majority of his forces and not allow them to rebuild their strength."

Harry nodded, a rare moment when he was in firm agreement with his aged mentor.

"Which brings us to my request …"

"I brought the Sorting Hat with me like you wanted." Harry passed the tattered Hat to the old man. "I've heard that the Hat can bring forth the Sword of Gryffindor to those who demonstrate great bravery," Harry reminisced.

"Quite right, young man, your sources are impeccable. You may also be interested to know that the Headmaster may also summon it in times of great need." Focusing on the Hat with great concentration, Dumbledore closed his eyes. After a minute, the Hat seemed to pulse, and then a hard shaft dropped out.

"It worked!"

"And now to demonstrate another of the secrets of the Founders, designed to protect Hogwarts from those who would do her harm. Behold the Eye of Godric." Dumbledore held the sword upright so the gigantic ruby affixed to the golden grip was aligned with the bridge of his nose.

"Sword of Gryffindor, give me Sight beyond Sight. So mote it be!"

Harry looked on in wonder as the deep red ruby began to glow with ethereal light, and a hum of power filled the room. Dumbledore's eyes focused on something far far away from the contents of the hospital ward.

"I see … a land of rain and thunder … great towers to the sky … hidden cities … desert and forest … by Merlin, Gellert, you cannot be serious!"

With a weary sigh, Dumbledore lowered the sword onto the bed and reclined, eyes fluttering.

"Wow, I had no idea the Sword of Gryffindor could do that," Harry said breathlessly.

Dumbledore chuckled wearily. "It's a magical sword, Mr Pettigrew; you didn't think it was good for nothing but looking fancy, being an incredibly inconvenient paperweight, propping doors open, swatting insects, and stabbing people with the pointy end, did you?"

"Oh," said a chagrined Harry. "So, you saw where they are?"

"Yes, Mr Pettigrew, I did."

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"It's Japan."

"Pardon?" Hermione looked up from her paperwork.

"The Death Eaters, whatever's left of Voldie, Grindelwald, young Albus, Ariana, Gellert and Abeforth" Harry paced back and forth across the lush royal purple carpeting, thinking furiously. "They've gone to Japan."

Hermione finished her last signature and laid her quill down. "Find that out from Dumbledore did you?"

Harry nodded.

"How's he progressing?"

"Good. Better than good, in fact. Looking younger and younger every day. Not surprising since apparently he's been binging on phoenix tears, and his old pal Nicholas Flamel whipped him up some Elixir of Life specially."

"So, Magical Japan is it?" she pondered. "That matches the information the HAHA has gathered."

"What? You knew and you didn't tell me?!" Harry demanded.

"Don't take that tone with me, Harry," she responded coldly. "It was nothing but an unconfirmed rumour at this point. We're still processing all the papers we seized from that warehouse, and our questioning of our captives is continuing as we speak. Do you have any idea of how long it takes to interrogate three dozen or so Death Eaters?"

Harry collapsed into one of the Malfoy office's comfortably plush feuteuil chairs. "I'm sorry, Hermione, you're right. I didn't mean to snap at you. I've just been so frustrated and jumpy these past few days."

"Understandable reaction to the situation, but you cannot take it out on your friends. We are all on the same side here," she chided.

"You're right, sorry," he repeated wearily. "In a nutshell, Grindelwald's original magical and muggle followers mostly came from Germany, Eastern Europe, Italy and Japan. Apparently he still has a lot of support from many of the local families there. Since the European ministries are already on high alert for blood purist activity due to the Voldemort wars here in Britain, it's difficult for any uprisings to be effective right now. So Double G's taken the next step and jumped over to visit his allies in Japan. They call it Mahounihon. You don't happen to have any information on the place from the Ministry do you?"

Hermione replied snippily, "I work at the DCRMC Harry, not the Department of International Magical Cooperation. And no, I haven't filched any information from there. It's well known amongst the bureaucracy that you don't mention anything about Abroad unless you want the pants bored off you. I promise I'll look into it, but don't get your hopes up. I doubt they have anything useful on file: nobody in the Ministry cares about foreigners who aren't French or from places that were once part of the British Empire."

"Damn." He went to the Floo and grabbed some powder for his return trip to Hogwarts. "Back to Dementor-land I go then. See you round, Hermione." He'd have to bite the hippogriff and talk to the one person he knew who would be most likely to have the information and the contacts he needed.

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Xiomara Lucrezia Zabini smiled to herself as a plan began to form rapidly. It wouldn't be easy, but if they succeeded then she would have all the power and wealth and recognition that she'd craved her entire life. Drunk with the thought and giggling with excitement, she began to plot to set the groundwork of what she hoped would make her the most powerful witch of her generation. "There may be a way …" she said slowly.

"Really?" he asked. Her sudden giggling out of nowhere was a bit disconcerting, but he'd already committed himself to this course of action.

"Yes, now let us away, I do not feel comfortable holding discussions out in the open whilst so many of those foul demons are floating about."

Harry couldn't argue with that sentiment, and allowed the girl to steer him inside one of the Greenhouses.

Zabinin firmly shut and locked the door, and cast several privacy spells for good measure. "There. Now, as I was saying, I may have access to resources that would aid you."

"That would be a tremendous help! I don't know anyone who knows anything about that part of the world. I've tried to talk to the Mahoutokoro students, but they just ignore me, or pretend not to speak English."

"Naturally. They're strangers in a strange land, and you're just another foreigner nobody who wants something from them while probably secretly looking down your nose at their 'barbaric' ways. If you want I may have some contacts I could feel out. Lay the groundwork for you. However, this is not without its price."

"Of course not," Harry sighed.

"Don't look so disheartened. I propose an arrangement by which the two of us help each other."

"How can we help each other?"

"Don't say that," Zabini chastised sternly. "Rather, say: 'what's in it for me?'"

"What do you mean?"

"What do you want?" Zabini asked bluntly. "That's all negotiations are you know, finding out what they want and what you can offer. So, articulate: what do you want from me? And what are you willing to give in exchange?"

"I have a sinking feeling that I know what you're going to ask for in return for your help."

"If you have the slightest shred of cunning or wit, then you do."

"Ally or not, I can't just go around betrothing myself willy-nilly! This is real life, not ' _Genma the Magical Panda'_ from the Tales of Ryouga the Bard," Harry protested.

"You signed the marriage agreement with Pandora Lovegood in order to gain control of House Malfoy," Zabini said implacably. "Sign my marriage agreement and I will give you access to the Zabinis' international network, and the keys to Magical Japan."

"But …"

"You DO wish to track down the courageless curs who harmed your Headmaster, kidnapped your friends, and burnt down your confederates' houses, do you not?"

"Well, yes …"

"You DO wish to apprehend and punish the wayward members of House Black who spurned your generosity, rejected your hand of friendship, and fled Britain alongside your mortal enemies, do you not?"

"Yes, but …"

"You DO wish to wipe the Death Eater scum and their dark families from the face of the wizarding world and end this interminable blood war, do you not?"

"You know I do …"

"If you are concerned with your other women objecting to my inclusion, I took the liberty a week ago of obtaining signed statements from Lady Delacour and Lady Malfoy-Lovegood confirming their approval for the match. And their agreement to the terms of management of your household." She handed him a sheaf of parchments.

"Of course they did that. Why am I not surprised?" Harry sighed, scanning the notarised legal forms.

"You should not be," she advised. "Part of their role is to see to the harmonious organisation of your household, so you can focus your mind and efforts on other matters. I have not had a chance to approach Lady Black as of yet, though from her behaviour, it appears that she is indifferent to your martial arrangements, leaving you free to proceed however you wish."

"I suppose that's true," he sighed.

"Do not lose hope, my beloved. She is more fond of you than she lets on, and more than she is willing to admit to herself. That much is obvious from her actions. In relation to my own status, I require you to ensure I am maintained in an appropriate standard of living as befits a Lady Potter, that my relatives are treated as if they were your own, and that I am not restricted from following a career path of my choosing."

"I wouldn't stop you from doing what you want to do."

"Now that's just the sort of thing you need to avoid saying," Zabini said sternly. "If I had wished, I could try to use statements like that to get around my obligations to you."

"You won't though, will you?"

"I'm not planning to, no," she admitted. "But just because I'm not planning to doesn't mean I won't at some point in time. You have to be careful about these things, husband-to-be."

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Being the proxy for House Malfoy had numerous advantages. For the first time, Hermione was truly able to appreciate the sheer scope of the Malfoy family's inter-generational scheme to co-opt the Ministry of Magic as their permanent retainer. And the extent to which they'd succeeded. Through liberal use of the considerable Malfoy resources, both in bribes and blackmail, she was able to muscle her way into becoming the lady who delivered the Minister's tea this morning. A coveted and much-fought-over position, since that person also brought in the morning stack of documents for the Minister to sign. And an enterprising tea lady had all sorts of opportunities to drop hints and suggestions and requests to the most powerful person in Britain. It was well known that Millicent Bagnold was not a morning person, and was in a (slightly) more suggestible state prior to 11am. Hermione, having little patience for such roundabout ways of attaining her goals, opted for the more direct route of dropping a few milligrams of Sleeping Potion into the Minister's tea, along with an extra helping of warm milk. Not enough potion to trigger any of the numerous potion-poison-weapon-explosive-disguise-eavesdropping detectors that filled the Minister's Office and the hallway outside, but just enough to make the woman more drowsy. Drowsy enough not to question what it was she was signing today. Leaving the Minister's Office, she pocketed her 'special' documents, passed the remainder on to the relevant office drones, returned to her office and downed her own potion. Then she strolled back through the Ministerial wing to the reception/security desk of the DoM wearing the polyjuiced face of Bartemius Crouch.

 _That disgusting man sheds more hair than my kneazles. Bribing his cleaning lady was the best gold I ever spent. Besides the gold I spent to ensure Cornelius Fudge suffered 'accidents' severe enough to put them in the recovery ward of St Mungos for the next few months._ She rolled her shoulders subtly, resisting the urge to scratch her back. Her transfigured Auror robes itched like crazy. _Merlin, how did Harry and Ron survive wearing these chafing things all day?_

"My word," the Unspeakable on duty exclaimed, "how did you get in here?"

Hermione favoured the man with a glare that was half contempt, half boredom. "Requisitions," she drawled, tapping the golden badge of rank adorning her chest that indicated she was at Director-level and a member of the Minister's personal security detail. "Need the time turners and the Veil of Death. And anything else that's useful for killing a Dark Lord."

"I'm afraid I can't just _give_ them to you, Director Crouch," the 'guard' said 'regretfully'.

"Oh ... forgot to give you the authorisation." She lazily handed over the document.

"Hmm?" The guard took the paper. "'Give the holder of this paper anything he wants, signed Minister Bagnold'. Everything seems to be in order then, come along."

Even though Hermione was well used to the lack of common sense pervading the denizens of the magical world, this seemed far too easy. Her inability to handle not knowing things eventually forced the next question out of her lips. If she didn't ask, it would drive her crazy: "You're really going to just hand them over to me? The things you're supposed to be guarding? Just like that?"

The mysterious man looked at her curiously. "Well, yeah. My job is to guard it from unauthorised people and with that official sheet of paper, you _are_ authorised. So, really I'm just doing my job. If there are any problems, that's a matter for further up the line, like for instance, the incompetence of the person who filled out the form that authorised you."

"So it would be a matter of the Minister's Office being the incompetent party?"

"Without a doubt. If we were breeding for incompetence, then the Ministry's upper echelons would be the world's major supplier. That's in box #26 by the way. Of course, I told my superiors that breeding for incompetence to try and limit government screw-ups was a bad idea, but did they listen to me? Nooo ..."

Hermione simply nodded vacantly and slowly took another step further away from the ranting Unspeakable. Before long they reached the Time Room.

"How many time turners you need?"

"All of them. And all the equipment used to make time turners."

"Okie-dokie. You got a bag or pouch to carry them in?"

"No. Do you?"

"Box #187. Where we keep the mokeskin pouches."

"Hmmm. I'll take them all." Pocketing them, she said, "They're a tad small. Got anything big enough to house the Veil of Death? And some giant creatures on top of that?"

The guard thought about it. "Box #666 might do the trick." Going over to a blank wall and opening a hidden compartment, the Unspeakable tapped a complex sequence with his wand, then pulled out a box. Opening it he revealed a worn and dilapidated colostomy bag.

"Seriously?"

"Uh-huh. The opening expands as large as the object you're moving in or out of it. Come on in." With that he stepped inside, a curious Hermione trailing after. She gasped. The interior was enormous. High vaulted ceiling almost a mile above them. Gothic pillars supporting it. Light filtered in through a series of giant stained-glass windows high above them. The space was so large she couldn't see the walls in the distance. 100 metres or so from where they were standing, a large, gilt Roman Catholic altar stood, complete with relics and statuary. "It was made by some crazy muggleborn who wanted his own mobile cathedral. So he could have God with him wherever he went, or some fool notion like that. Not sure how we ended up with it."

"So why a colostomy bag?"

"According to the legend, he didn't ever want to risk being separated from it. Not much likelihood of somebody stealing or confiscating _that_ , was there?"

"I suppose not. It's perfect," she said as they exited. "Stability an issue?"

"Nope, she's perfectly stable."

"Good, put all the time turners and equipment in here." With a few flicks of his wand, the man complied. While the entire contents of the Time Room were floating into the bag, Hermione surreptitiously dropped a few pebbles around the room.

They moved on to the Death Room. Moving the Veil was trickier, since someone generations ago had sealed the arch to the stone podium to prevent anyone from doing exactly what she was trying to do. They got around the problem by melting the base of the stone structure to slag with a series of concentrated heating and blasting charms, and then levitating the whole thing, Veil and podium, into the bag. The Death Room was left with a huge, ugly scar in the middle of the room. Hermione took the liberty of dropping her remaining stones into the hole while her host's back was turned.

Finally they were done, and strolled back to the main Ministry area. Hermione placed the colostomy bag firmly in her inner pocket, and requested the guard escort her to the elevator bank instead of the way she'd come in.

"Oh, before I forget, the Unspeakable Augustus Rookwood is a Death Eater. Your superiors may want to do something about that."

"What?! How do you know?"

"Every time I visit the DoM he tries to recruit me to join the Dark Lord. Either that or tries to sell me DoM secrets." Hermione said blandly. "Bye for now." She pushed the button and the elevator doors closed, leaving a flabbergasted Unspeakable in her wake.

Hermione waited a moment, then pulled out the control stone. Drawing her wand, she cast the release spell. _Finite._ The lights flickered and the elevator car shuddered for a moment as below her came the sound of a low boom.

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	26. 24 Nattering with Nazgul

**Author's Note:**

This is a continuation/soft reboot of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse, with a bunch of changes. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" by Rorschach's Blot. Both are used with the permission of their original authors. The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter or anything else.

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Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.

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Canon-compliant. HP&DH compliant (except the Epilogue). HP&CC compliant (except the conclusion). FB&WTFT compliant. Pottermore compliant (mostly).

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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "Harry Potter and the Rune Stone Path" by Temporal Knight.

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Question of the Week: If _The Lord of the Rings_ series was intended by Tolkien as a fictional ancient history of Britain, how did he explain the continents shifting around so much within the last several thousand years?

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 **Chapter 24 – Nattering with Nazgûl**

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If my love must be a rodent, then shall I be anything but a rat?

– Lynne Jonell

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Ron eyed Harry suspiciously. "Okay mate, what have you done _this time_?" he sighed in exasperation. The other Marauders perked up in keen interest at this latest development in the Peter Pettigrew soap opera.

"Uh, I may have just gotten mphrglemnsts …"

"What was that?"

"I … may have acted recklessly again …"

"Oh?" Ron said with faux bonhomie. "Do tell."

"Well, I mean … I figured I'd already done it once … or thrice … before. So what was one more? You know, in for a knut, in for a galleon …"

"As fun as it is watching you squirm, Wormtail," Sirius said mirthfully, "perhaps you'd better tear the band-aid off in one go, and just spill. We're all gonna find out one way or another."

"I … may have just gotten married again," Harry said in a small voice.

"Of course you did," Ron rolled his eyes so hard it was incredible they didn't tumble out of his skull. They certainly gave Mad-Eye's magical mad eye a run for its money.

"Dammit Wormy, not another one!" James exploded. "How many women are you planning on hoovering up!? Was snatching my woman not enough?! Who was it this time, Alice McKinnon?!"

"Uh, Xiomara Zabini …"

"The gorgeous Italian Durmstranger? We are not worthy! We are not worthy! I take back everything snarky I ever said about your prowess, O Grand Gerbil of Greatness – please please teach your faithful disciple Padfoot your secrets; I deserve a harem too, don't I?"

Remus sighed and began to leaf through the signed betrothal contract. He sure seemed to be seeing a lot of them lately.

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 _EXPLOSION IN DEPT OF MYSTERIES! TRAITOR UNSPEAKABLE TO BLAME!_

 _Secret Sources Suggest That The Source of The Mysterious Series of Explosions That Shook The Department of Mysteries Was The Work of Sabotage! All Evidence Points to Unspeakeable-Turned-Death Eater Augustus Rookwood! What Other Acts of Terror is This Saboteur Responsible For?_

 _By Rita Skeeter and Phât Phúc_

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"Merry Christmas! I know it's a bit late in the season, so maybe it's better to think of it as a Happy Hanami festival instead, given where you're heading to."

"What are these?" Harry asked, poking at the pile of metal studs Hermione had poured out onto the table.

"Enchanted studs. If you look closely you can see the runes inscribed on them."

"My animagus form is a rat, not an eagle, my friend."

"Then you'll just have to take my word for it, won't you?"

He laughed. "Don't I always?"

"Just as long as you don't start nibbling on them, Mr Rat Animagus. These are special ear studs, especially enchanted by the DoM to assist the user to understand a foreign language as if they were hearing their mother tongue. And these are special tongue studs, enchanted by the DoM to assist the user to speak a foreign language as if they were speaking their own tongue."

"Wow!" breathed Harry, mightily impressed. "Those are extremely useful artefacts! You're telling me that the Unspeakables have invented a universal translator? This is epic!"

"No, of course not! The difficulties of trying to engineer _that_ idea are far too steep and numerous to ever be worth bothering with," she lectured him. Harry felt like he was back in his first year classes again. "There's only so many runic arrays you can fit onto a tiny piece of metal. These ones were only possible because the pieces were originally crafted as 20-pound hollow dumbells, inscribed, enchanted and then shrunk down to the size you see here. But there's a limit to how much you can shrink something, as I'm _sure_ you know, since I'm certain you _never_ drifted off during Charms Class?"

"Of course not, you know me," Harry laughed nervously.

"In answer to your question," Hermione continued, with a long-suffering air, "these only work with a single language – Japanese. If you encounter other languages, then you're out of luck, and will just have to make do with the ol' 'gesticulating wildly and talking at each other in increasingly loud voices while hoping not to start a war or instigate an international incident' technique."

"Will do; I'm an expert at that!"

"I'm sure."

"What about reading and writing?"

"You're out of luck there too; you're going to have to learn those the old-fashioned way."

"You're telling me the DoM can make artefacts that automatically translate speech and hearing into English, but can't do the same with reading and writing?!"

"The translator studs are not 'translating' anything into English. Rather, they act as a magical interface, assisting your brain to interpret and understand the meaning and intent behind the sounds it receives through your ears, and conversely, the intent and meaning of your desired communication into the correct sounds to carry that message via your tongue. Do you understand?"

"I sure don't!" he replied cheerily.

She rolled her eyes. "The point is, if you want to be able to read, you'd need to get some translator studs shoved into your eyes, and to be able to write, get some translator studs stabbed into each of your fingers. Though," she mused thoughtfully, "I could always have the Unspeakables whip up a special order just for you …"

"Ah no, that's fine, Hermione, I'm perfectly happy with hearing and speaking, in fact that's much more than I'd ever hoped for anyway, so thanks!" Harry said hastily.

"Well, if you're sure …" she said slowly.

"But, ahem, moving onto more pressing matters – how come we don't use these for learning Latin, and Ancient Runes, and spells in general? These things could speed up the process by years even! Why are we even sending students to Hogwarts in the first place?"

"Magic doesn't work that way, Harry, sheesh! How can you be a 20-year old Hogwarts graduate and not know anything about magical theory?"

"Lots of practice," he retorted cheekily.

"The point is, yes sure you could pick up Latin and learn the futhark and all that with translator studs, but if magic could simply be learned by rote, anyone with a magical core could teach themselves with a book of Latin grammar and a list of wand movements. Even Argus Flich! But magic is more than words and wand-waving, as you well know, Mr Wandless Magic Master."

"Being able to do a simple stunners, finites and summoning spells wandlessly hardly makes me a master of the Wandless Arts, Hermione," he said dryly.

"It's more than I can do. As you _should know_ very well, magic is a function of will and experience in manifesting that will through manipulating your magical core, and then (usually) channelling that power through your wand. That's why it's possible to perform spells silently, point-cast without moving a wand at all, and use wandless magic. You have to immerse yourself in it – be able to _feel_ the magic flow through you, and understand what those feelings mean. And that can only be acquired through practice. Lots and lots of practice. These studs are completely useless in that regard. So I'm sorry to say, your miracle magic-learning shortcut that would get you out of actually studying, is non-existent."

"Frell. You don't sound sorry at all, you darn swot," he accused.

"See how vigorously I don't care. Even if your magical-mystery-wonder-solution actually worked, what would happen if you ever lost your studs, or someone stole them from you, ever think of that? You'd be utterly helpless because you'd never bothered to actually learn and understand how perform magic, i.e., how to be a wizard! Could there be anything more pathetic than that?"

"Alright, alright, you've made your point already! Can I put these things in now?"

"Proceed," Hermione intoned magnanimously.

"OW!" Harry flinched as a sharp pain shot through his earlobe. The stud had shot out a thin spike of metal that pierced his lobe, locking itself firmly into place in the tender flesh of his ear. "I thought they had Sticking Charms! You didn't say they actually clamped into your skin!"

"They don't – at least, not if you have pierced ears," she retorted smugly.

"What did I ever do to you, Hermione?" he whined in a shockingly unmanly manner.

"Oh, you mean besides ripping me from my nice warm bed and dumping me into the hideous body of a blood purist monster?"

"Shutting up now."

"Such a well-trained, housebroken boy," his friend purred. "If only your fellow Stooge would take to his training so assiduously. Well, chop chop! Put the other two in, time and tide wait for no-one. At least, not without a time turner, and you're not getting them until you make with the jewellery."

"Ouch! I'm _really_ not going to like this last one, am I?" Harry asked, looking at the tongue-stud with dread.

"Only one way to find out," she said wisely.

"Ow! _Owowow!_ Dat un 'as da 'urst o' all!"

"Stop your bellyaching; men, no pain tolerance whatsoever," the woman sniffed disdainfully. "And now to test them." She walked over to the side-table. Harry's Victor V phonograph that he'd purchased from Jacob in Diagon, stood there, ready and eager to make itself useful. "Here we go: ' _Nipponese for Non-Native Neophytes_ '." She extracted the record and loaded it on the phonograph. "Now, listen and see if you can understand what it's saying."

"Greetings intrepid voyager, and welcome to Part One of ' _Nipponese for Non-Native Neophytes_ '," came a tinny, scratchy voice that sounded remarkably similar to an even-older Bathilda Bagshot or Grizabela Marchbanks. "So you've decided to tour the world and for some bizarre reason are visiting a continent filled with those sandal-wearing goldfish tenders – why you would ever bother with that though is beyond me. I would have thought you'd want to do something productive with your life, but what do I know?"

"This is … much more racist than I expected," Hermione commented.

Harry shrugged. "This _is_ the 1970's. And we _do_ live in an insular, chauvinist magical community. And aren't you the one who's always going on about how Magical British society is stuck in the Georgian Era? I'm surprised that this message isn't doing a Walburga Black and simply railing at us for being traitors to our nation or some such silliness."

"Point."

"So now you're stuck in a barbarian land and you're in dire straits – forced to actually talk to foreigners. Why can't those wogs learn the Queen's English, by Merlin? Ahem, but until that glorious, shining day, you will have to make do with memorising the following," the voice continued, unperturbed by Hermione's chagrin. The speaker began to rattle of words in a different language.

"So? Can you understand what she's saying?"

"I believe …" Harry frowned in concentration, "that she's giving us the recipe for chicken soup … and now she's describing her holiday at Brighton Beach … now she's reading passages from some book about a guy called Benjy, and adding her own commentary every few lines … about how the protagonist's a complete pervert and degenerate, but what can you expect from such people …"

Hermione switched off the machine with a decisive snap. Then carefully removed the record and gingerly carried the fragile shellac disc back to her desk.

"Well at least we know the studs work …" Harry began.

Hermione raised her arm up straight up, then swung it down suddenly, smashing the record into tiny fragments against the edge of her desk. Harry jumped, startled by the sudden, violent action from his generally-even-tempered friend.

"These studs are amazing, many thanks, Q!" Harry gushed, pretending he'd not just witnessed that. "Those Unspeakables are geniuses! Why doesn't every witch and wizard have a set of these?!"

"Probably because of the enormous expense, Mr Potter, H. James Potter; do you have any idea how difficult it is to enchant these studs? Besides, why would they bother? Most purebloods grow up speaking Latin, French and German, the languages of their most important neighbours, and of their common magical cultural heritage. What more could they possibly need," she added sardonically. "And when they holiday abroad, they just hire local translators, porters, guides and so forth. So only diplomatic personnel from the Department of International Magical Cooperation (DIMC) ever need the translator studs. When they actually feel like going abroad and representing our country's interests, that is."

"If they're so hard-to-make and expensive, then how did you get ahold of so many of them?" Harry wondered. "If the DIMC don't care about Japan in the slightest, then they must be pretty rare too."

"I merely ordered the DoM to whip up a fresh batch for my exclusive use."

"What!? How?!"

"Didn't you hear?" Hermione blinked innocently. "I've recently been promoted. It was in the Ministry Gazette and everything last week. Sadly, the society papers were more concerned with wailing about that Yaxley imbecile to pay any attention to _real_ news such as this."

"Eh?"

"You don't need to look so surprised. It was only a matter of time before the Minister noticed my superlative intellect and outstanding organisational skills, and re-allocated me accordingly," she sniffed imperiously.

"To what?"

"You're now looking at the Deputy Director of the DIMC in charge of the Magical Asia desk, and the Deputy Director of the DCRMC in charge of elves and werewolves," she grinned. "And also the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for International Relations, Magical Asia Region, and the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Creature's Rights and Welfare."

His jaw dropped.

"I know!" she crowed, "I managed to beat Dolores to the Senior Undersecretary post by almost 20 years! Eat that, Umbridge, you obtuse hag! Saying I'd never in a million years be so much as a toilet cleaner in the Ministry of Magic."

"You have _four_ jobs now?! I don't know whether to burst in admiration or worry about your health. Mental and physical."

"The Minister felt that, in light of my unrivalled and irreplaceable expertise, I was the only figure in government service well-placed to hold all four important positions simultaneously. Butterbeer?"

Harry nodded dumbly. Hermione opened her drinks cabinet and poured them both large glasses of the frosty beverage. They toasted her success.

"To be honest, being DD-DIMC for MA and the Senior Secretary for MA don't involve doing any actual work, since the British and the 22 Magical Asian governments have nothing to say or do with each other. But being the special rapporteur, envoy and monitor for the region means I can keep my ear to the ground for any useful information while you're over there, hold the fort on this end, maybe even rustle up some diplomatic help for you if you lot get yourselves into trouble. Do try to avoid that, won't you? Oh, who am I kidding, of course you're going to get into trouble; with _everyone_ , no doubt! But other than that, I can just kick back and let the paychecks roll in for sitting on my pert derrière."

"Just like every Ministry employee ever, I'm sure."

"Naturally," she replied, a tad impatiently, "but those other mindless drones lack the wit and ingenuity to be paid _four_ separate paychecks every week for doing only one job."

"Only one?"

"Being DD-DCRMC for elves and werewolves is basically the same thing I've been doing for the past few months, except now I get a fancy new office, staff of lackeys, and have people actually listen to what I'm saying for once."

"What about that second Senior Secretary whatchamacallit?"

"That's just a fancy title for the person who explains to the Minister why the ideas of the DD-DCRMC for elves and werewolves are so brilliant and why she should rubber-stamp the DD-DCRMC's unquestionably correct decisions without further dither," Hermione explained.

Harry blinked skeptically. "And the Minister and the rest of the Ministry bureaucrats are okay with you just rolling over them like that?"

"Why wouldn't they be? After all, I have all the correct paperwork in triplicate, signed in the correct places by Minister Millicent Bagnold herself. Who would dare gainsay me?" She tapped her finger on the stack of 'special' documents that the Minister had so obligingly signed for her the other day, which now sat securely in her warded in-tray. "What, jealous? You think you're the only person who can usurp their way into powerful, plum roles?"

"Certainly not," he said quickly, "I'm just worried about your enemies staging a counter-revolution or something."

"Let me worry about that side of things, you just focus on those hordes of vicious dark wizards and dark creatures massing in that unknown, hostile wilderness. Bagnold's famous for never being able to remember the faces of the DIMC or DCRMC staff. Foreign affairs and creatures regulation have never been high priorities for the Ministry, they don't get you re-elected. Winning this civil war and restoring the economy _will_ , so they're her and the DMLE's whole world for the foreseeable future. I doubt she'd even notice that old Jeremiah Jorkins and Alderton Lufkin have somehow melded into one 20-something woman."

"And what _did_ happen to Jeremiah Jorkins and Alderton Lufkin?"

"It seems the Minister has inadvertently demoted her former Senior Undersecretary to work in the Goblin Liaison office, and her former DD-DCRMC to working the mail-room. Guess that's two less Purist bigots in the upper Ministry hierarchy," she replied innocently. "Now, don't forget to make sure that everyone in your party going abroad has their ear and tongue studs in place. It'll take a few days to get used to them, so the earlier they put them in, the better. I have some other supplies for you, too."

She placed a dozen mokeskin bags onto the table.

"I know you've already got one of these, but it never hurts having spares. Each one contains a time turner, a vial of Veritaserum, a travel-set of healing, nutrient, strength and speed potions, a flask of honeybadger antivenin in case you run into snakes, and a bunch of spare wands, any I could find in Knockturn. Give one to each of your party-members, I don't _think_ I have to tell you to warn them about how _dangerous_ the contents are and how careful they have to be with them, hmmmm? Good. Now here's _your_ pack."

She placed a worn and used-looking bag onto the table.

"Your one is special: the Expanded Space inside is enormous, enough for you all to camp out in if necessary. Hopefully it won't be, there's a half-dozen wizard's tents stored in one of the side-rooms in there. Just remember **_not_** to open up an Expanded Space while inside another Expanded Space! That Would Be Bad. I'm serious, Harry – don't do it! I don't want to hear your protests, just don't open them inside the Expanded Space, okay, very bad things will happen!"

"Alright, alright, I get it already! No opening them up, got it! Sheesh, I didn't even say anything!"

"You were thinking it," Hermione replied severely. "I've also stored the remainder of the spare time turners, minus a few for my own personal use, in another side-room. And I came across an old friend of yours at the DMLE, so took the liberty of adding him to your collection."

"Who?"

"Robbie the Robot."

Harry stared for a moment. Then began to laugh. "Oh that's priceless! I can't wait to crank that monster up and turn 'im loose. Be nice to see The Wrecking Ball wrecking someone else's day for a change! Good one, Hermione, you always know how to add that little extra spice!"

"Well, I try," she preened modestly. "I've also included a little something called the Veil of Death." She laughed at his expression. "Yep, stole it straight out from under the noses of the DoM. I understand the Director has been badgering Director Crouch quite mercilessly for its return!"

"And what do you suggest I do with _that_ horrible thing?" he asked, eyeing the bag warily.

"Throw Voldemort into it of course! Along with Grindelwald and Bellatrix and any demons, cursed artefacts and horcruxes you may encounter. Really, Harry, do I have to do _all_ your thinking for you?!"

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"Welcome to my humble abode," Harry said politely, ushering his guests into Malfoy Manor's palatial sitting room.

"I can't believe Umbridge talked me into this," grumbled Andromeda, balancing Nymphadora on her hip. Seeing Andromeda bounce Nym sparked powerful and painful memories of Harry's godson, Teddy Lupin. Who'd now grow up without his godfather. Ted Tonks trotted after her, carrying a muggle baby stroller.

"Don't listen to her, dear boy," Molly Weasley tutted as she followed them in. "It really is extremely generous of you. Are you sure we can't pay something in rent? This really is a beautiful home, I'd feel bad if we weren't contributing _anything_!"

"Oh but you are, Mrs Weasley," he replied, helping Arthur juggle a large basket of supplies. "I'm going to be out of the country for some time and this place desperately needs someone to stay here to maintain it. More importantly, I don't like the idea of leaving Merope and Tom here in this giant estate all alone."

A squealing three-year old Bilius Weasley shot into the room, chasing one of Umbridge's white kneazles. The horrified creature was momentarily saved from a fate worse than death, as the rambunctious toddler was snagged, mid-leap, by his mother, and forced to endure being trapped on her lap. Molly quelled her squirming son with the ease of long practice. Harry shook his head. It was so weird seeing Molly, Arthur and Bill so young. There was a time he'd seen them as surrogate parents; now they were more like elder siblings. Given time, that is: the Golden Trio would need to work long and hard to rebuild their ties to these people.

"Did you have any trouble finding tenants for your place in Ottery St Catchpole?" he asked Arthur, once the pair had settled.

"Not at all," Mr Weasley waved dismissively. "Amos knew some people who had just immigrated from Canada who were looking for a peaceful, rural setting."

"Thankyou again," gushed Molly. "The extra gold from rent really helps our family more than we can say. Are you _sure_ there's nothing else we can do?"

Harry laughed. "I'm sure. Just make sure everything stays in good condition and that the Gaunts aren't left to brood or mope about, and we'll call it even. How about you, Ted? Everything organised on your end?"

"Oh yes," said Ted cheerfully said. "Amazingly enough, there's a lot of demand to rent heavily warded wizarding houses at the moment. Who would've thought?"

"I would prefer to remain in my own home," Andromeda said stubbornly.

"Ah, but think about how much more secure your family will be here. While strong, your house's wards are nothing compared to those here. During wartime, you really can't be too careful. Besides," he added cheekily, "think of all the work you'll be able to get done here: Dolores will be living here too, along with her protégé Gilderoy Lockhart. And I hear Arthur's a real up-and-comer in the Ministry. Next week, Gideon and Fabian Prewett and their wives also arrive. That's three Wizengamot members and three Ministry officials at least! And I'm sure the Longbottoms, Potters, Diggories, Bones, Abbotts, McKinnons and Delacours will be visiting quite a lot. You could practically get a quorum right here!"

"I knew it!" Andromeda groused. "This is all some elaborate ploy to squeeze more hours of labour out of your retainers!" But she had a mirthful twinkle in her black eyes.

"Really, Lord Malfoy, I think you exaggerate my importance," Arthur said in embarrassment.

"Don't sell yourself short, Arthur," Harry replied. "The Ministry's in desperate need of young guns such as yourself to shake things up, otherwise the fossils who run the place will continue to let everything ossify. And I'm sure with all the governmental heavyweights in one spot, you'll all be able to collaborate and brainstorm and come up with all sorts of great new ideas."

Harry reclined in the master's high-backed chair. "Flipsy! Flopsy!" Two house elves appeared, clad demurely in canary-yellow dresses, daisies behind their ears. Molly clapped her hands in delight at their adorableness. Andromeda rolled her eyes at the exuberant woman.

"Flipsy and Flopsy are the two newest elves bonded to House Malfoy. Dobby found them in the Orkneys of all places," Harry explained. Addressing the elves, he said gently, "This is Arthur, Molly, Andromeda and Ted. While I'm gone, they are in charge of the house and grounds. If you have any questions or needs, talk to them." The two creatures bobbled their heads enthusiastically. "Now, could you please ask Merope if she and Tom could come join us? And then bring us tea and cakes?"

"Yes, master!" they chirped and disappeared.

They chatted amicably for some minutes, until the arrival of the final two guests. Seeing a shadow floating hesitantly in the corner of his eye, Harry rose and gently escorted the uncertain witch to a couch of their own. Merope Gaunt hid shyly behind him as he led her in, a not very effective strategy since even after all his growth potions, she was taller than him by a clear foot. Baby Tom observed the proceedings with a solemn gaze.

"Merope and Tom don't have any other family, so I'm counting on you all to make them feel welcome," he said delicately.

"Milord is too kind," the dark-haired witch whispered.

"Now what did I say about calling me Peter?" he chided teasingly, causing her to flush and look down at the floor.

"Oh you poor dear, you must've been so lonely," sympathised Molly, mothering instincts kicking in something fierce (as Harry had hoped they would). She immediately moved over to sit next to the frail witch and introduced her son. Soon they were chatting quietly amongst themselves, cooing over Tom, and comparing childrearing experiences.

To give them a bit of privacy, Harry re-focused onto the other three inhabitants of the room, who were accepting cups of tea from the elves. "I need to leave now, but Dolores is reachable by Floo if you need something. Our Floo address is 'Malfoy Manor' and the transport password is 'pureblood purity'. Yes, I know, I know, but I haven't had time to change it. Feel free to switch it 'the Dork Lord sucks' or something."

He looked at his watch, and turned back to the two mothers. "My friends Dolores Umbridge and Gilderoy Lockhart will move in this weekend. Gilderoy's still in school, so you'll probably only see him on weekends. Guests from the French magical government likely will be visiting a lot too. You don't need to feel obliged to entertain them or anything; this place is big enough that you can find a quiet spot no matter how many of them are underfoot."

Gathering up his belongings, Harry threw a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace. "I have no idea when I'll be back in Britain. Take care of each other, and stay safe. Voldemort may be out of the picture, but I have a bad feeling that we're in the eye of the storm. Grindelwald is marshalling his forces, and things could get much much worse."

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"So Goldenrod, how are you enjoying being Account Manager of three Ancient and Noble Houses?" Harry asked, noting that the goblin now had four assistants sitting at their own (lower and smaller) desk busily taking minutes. _Somebody's been moving up in the world._

"Busy. But profitable," the goblin summarised, snapping his jaw in a way that could indicate satisfaction, annoyance, self-pity, weariness, resignation, joy, or hostility. "What can Gringotts do for you today."

"Time is money, so I'll be brief," Harry said. The goblins nodded in approval at a human who showed rare good sense. "I shall be relocating to Japan for the foreseeable future, along with my retainers. Consequently I need some loose ends tied up. Cost is no object." The goblins nodded again in approval at a human who showed himself to be a complete sucker. Rich and stupid was the best combination of qualities a human could possess.

"Regarding House Malfoy, I want to formally adopt Merope Gaunt, Tom Marvolo Riddle, Remus Lupin and Mary MacDonald as full members." Mary was the last muggleborn of their group unattached to a great House, and Remus was a 'dark creature'; this at least would provide some legal protection if things got hairy with the Ministry. Luckily the Malfoy Family Rules had no restrictions on werewolves joining – probably because none of them had ever in their dreams imagined a Head would ever make one a family member. Harry hoped Mary and Remus wouldn't be too pissed at him for going behind her back like this. "Further, I wish to formally roll the Lovegood and Fitzhallibut-Malfoy cadet lines into the main Malfoy family, with full succession rights and so forth."

The goblin assistants scribbled furiously. One of them raced out of the room.

"We require blood samples from each of the individuals to be adopted," rasped Goldenrod. Harry wordlessly passed over vials of blood he had obtained (or in the case of Mary and Remus, sent Kreacher to take samples from their bloodied Quidditch gauntlets in the locker rooms). The Account Manager passed the vials to another assistant, who also left the office. "Anything else?"

Harry grinned viciously. "Oh yes. You have a Gringotts branch in Tokyo?"

"Of course," the goblin replied, offended.

"Good. Open an account there for me and transfer every knut from every Black vault to it. Access limited to myself and everyone on this list." He handed over a list of the members of the HA. "No keys, blood sample access only." The last thing he wanted was someone losing their vault key in the Japanese countryside, or having it filched and the vault emptied by some enterprising local. "Then close all the Black vaults except one, and move all the artefacts, books, paintings, anything that isn't currency, into it."

Goldenrod made a few notations on his parchment. "It will be completed within the week."

"Next, I'm going to do what you suggested I do during our last meeting – let my beloved relatives starve on the street. Every member of the Black family except myself and Sirius Black is to be expelled as soon as practicable!" _Ha, that surprised you!_ "Simultaneously, the following people are to be adopted into House Malfoy: Andromeda Tonks, Theodore Tonks, Nymphadora Tonks, Narcissa Black, Dorea Potter-Black and Cedrella Weasley-Black. I believe you have their blood and magical signatures on record? Good. From this time on, House Black will only have three members – myself as Head, my Heir Sirius, and by default, my proxy Andromeda for as long as she remains my proxy.

"Then I want Gringotts to liquidate the assets of House Black. All properties to be sold, including the main house at Grimmauld Place, all inhabitants evicted, all dark artefacts destroyed, all books and any other valuables to be moved to my storage vault. Don't forget to retrieve the contents of the warded library hidden under the secret trapdoor in the bottom basement of Grimmauld Place. On no account should any Gringotts employee attempt to read those books!"

Goldenrod stared at him with an unreadable (even for a goblin) expression. "You realise what you're doing?" he asked slowly. At some point he had taken to his feet.

Harry nodded. "I'm disestablishing House Black as anything other than two schoolboys, a Wizengamot seat and a bunch of heirlooms. By the time I return to Britain, I expect the House to exist in name and law alone."

His Account Manager slowly sank back down into his seat. "If you don't mind my asking," he eventually said, "What brought this radical decision on?"

"I don't mind telling you, Goldenrod. I left them alone at first because I made a deal with Orion Black to spare them in exchange for certain things. That, plus they really didn't know any better. Had to make allowances for that, not everyone is a Sirius Black. After Voldemort attained to his squibdom, they had the opportunity to renounce his violent prejudicial cause and reconcile with me. Instead, the majority abandoned Britain to join Grindelwald's new model army. They've crossed their Rubicon, burned their last bridges. As far as I'm concerned, they've lost all access to any family assets or protection. And if I meet them on the field of battle, they won't be walking away from it."

"If I ever anger you, Lord Black, let me know so I can dig my own grave and lie in wait in it."

"If you ever anger me, Master Goldenrod, you wouldn't know it, as all of Gringotts would be rubble covering your corpse."

Goldenrod sighed, "If only you had been born a goblin."

"If only you had been born a human."

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Lily Evans was apprehensive. The reclusive Durmstranger, sole representative of her school remaining at Hogwarts, a girl who'd turned down all overtures of friendship and group study (even after the loss of her schoolmates), now wanted to speak to her about subjects unknown. That was not a good portent. Zabini never talked to anyone about anything. _And right when we have no Headmaster, and a horde of Dementors have taken up residence on the Hogwarts grounds. Why did I ever think this term was going to be less eventful than the last?_ she sighed to herself. But there really was no excuse she could use to reject her request for a meeting; she was supposed to be accessible to everyone, after all, even the foreign exchange students. Still, she did ensure that Mary MacDonald and the McKinnon twins were present as backup if necessary. Zabini did not object to, nor even acknowledge, their presence, as she glided placidly into the Head Girl's office.

"Xiomara Lucrezia Zabini of Durmstrang, welcome to my office. Please, have a seat. Would you care for some tea?" Lily asked politely.

"No thankyou, Head Girl Lily Evans of Hogwarts. Though I appreciate your hospitality," Xiomara replied in a formal tone as she floated down onto the chairs with ethereal grace. For some reason she had eschewed the Durmstrang uniform in favour of the attire of a Hogwarts student. A yellow Hufflepuff tie around her neck, and yellow and black lining on the edges of her robes. "I am sure you wondered why I organised this get-together, considering we've never spoken so much as two words."

"The thought had crossed my mind. I assumed it was because you were having some issue or problem with your stay here? I hope that there is nothing causing you concern?" _Other than the total vanishing of every single other member of your school without a trace …_

"In a manner of speaking," Xiomara said. "Though probably not in the way you envisage. Please forgive my bluntness, but I was given to understand that you value candour and directness in your dealings with others." At Lily's nod, she continued. "Then I shall get straight to the point: House Zabini seeks your intercession with Lord Malfoy and his household on our behalf."

"Lord Malfoy?" Mary queried quizzically, "Isn't he dead now?"

Xiomara did not break eye contact with Lily, but answered the question nonetheless. "Yes and no. I'm referring to the new Lord Malfoy."

"There's a new Lord Malfoy? I wasn't aware," Lily replied in surprise. Her surprise surprised the Zabini.

"Your Lord didn't inform you of his recent investiture?" she asked in confusion.

"No he did not. Wait, what do you mean by 'my Lord'? Who in the hell has been going around telling people that I'm– oh no. No no no. I really reeeeeeally hope that you're not going to say what I think you will …"

"I am saying that Lord Peter Pettigrew has taken up the mantle of House Malfoy in addition to that of Houses Black and Potter," said Xiomara with a touch of asperity. She was growing impatient with the Head Girl's façade of obliviousness. "My family are allies of House Malfoy, and part of the terms of alliance is my hand in marriage. Lord Malfoy and I have, accordingly, signed our betrothal contract, and agreed the terms of my entrance into his household. I desire good relations with the other members of the household: Lord Malfoy, Lady Malfoy-Lovegood and the Veela. Unfortunately, he appears uncomfortable with my involvement; I know of your great influence over him and the others and beg your support in aiding my integration – it is in all of our best interests that we form a harmonious group. I do not mind if you are his primary wife. I do not mind if you are mistress of his household. All I ask, Lady Black, is that I be kept in the style of living to which I'm accustomed, in terms of gold, leisure and the freedom to accumulate more of both." She paused to let that sink in. "The question is, what do you want in return for doing me this service?" Xiomara flicked a thick lock of ebony curls back over her shoulder. "Gold? Contacts? A career track? I know that James Potter has been harassing you for some time now. I can ensure that he is … removed from the equation entirely if you like."

When the full import of what the girl was saying finally registered, Lily gave a low growl of exasperation. Her three friends looked on with a mixture of curiosity, amusement and concern. These days it seemed she was losing her temper quite a lot, over all the things that kept happening – correction, over a certain group of Gryffindor sixth-year males that kept happening to her.

"First Apolline, then Pandora, and now you!? Is Fate Herself conspiring to try and drag me into a harem? And The Vermin's harem, of all people! Why in the name of Morgana's hairy armpits would I want to share a wizard with a bunch of other witches? And why would I even _want_ to anything to do with that pathetic excuse for a Rat Bastard?!"

She glared defiantly at Zabini, fists on her hips, openly daring the girl to challenge her. This whole conversation was straying into territory uncomfortably close to her parents' unwelcome revelations that night Pettigrew had paid his unannounced visit to her house.

The Mediterranean girl grit her teeth in frustration. Of all the witches in this castle, why did it have to be a muggleborn? And a particularly loud, stubborn and opinionated muggleborn to boot. Oh well, them were the breaks. She'd made her bed and now it was time to sleep in it. Or was that, time to eat it? The muggle expression mattered not. Then again, it wasn't as if Lady Black didn't have redeeming qualities. In all honesty, Zabini had to admit she was a catch: Head Girl of Hogwarts at a mere 16 years of age, probably retaining that position for two years running, brilliant, top of all her classes, passionate, gorgeous, kindly. Really, all she had to do was sandpaper away those many, many abrasive edges and teach the girl some proper wizarding culture, and Evans may one day, a century or so for now, emerge as from a chrysalis to become a passable simulacrum of a proper pureblood lady. Lower-middle class pureblood lady, but a lady nonetheless.

"The reason it keeps coming up is probably because anyone with so much as one working eye in their head can see how close the two of you are." Xiomara offered sensibly.

"CLOSE?!" Lily shrieked incredulously. "How could anyone ever believe we're _close_?" She shivered in horror, was that really how other people saw them?

"Naturally," replied her interlocutor. "After all, you're the only female he's spent significant amounts of time with since the beginning of the school year. Apolline and Pandora are johnny-come-latelies to the party in that regard. As for you, ever since you broke ties with Severus Snape, Lord Malfoy is your only significant male friend. And it's not just the amount of time you spend together either; every time I turn around, I notice the two of you huddled away somewhere, plotting and scheming. Then there is your mysterious marriage. Nothing ever appeared in the society papers, but my sources assure me that it is duly registered in the Wizengamot's files. Not to mention that you two share some subtle magical link that nobody can decipher, but is there nonetheless."

"Wha…? But…?"

"Now take the case of Lady Delacour, which you raised," the Durmstranger-turned-Badger continued unperturbed. "She is Veela. A pure hedonist. She knows exactly what pleases her and is willing to spread pleasure around in order to get it … of course, merely being a Veela doesn't automatically make you like that, not all Veela are that way, in fact many are the exact opposite from what I've heard from my relatives in Italy," she added hastily, noting the dangerous gleam in the Head Girl's eye.

"I can see you're getting the wrong idea," Xiomara backpedalled, acutely aware of how close Mount Evans was to erupting. "What I'm _trying_ to tell you is that Apolline's gotten it into her head that Pettigrew's the one she wants, and she'll move heaven and earth to keep him. And it's clear that her stubbornness rivals even your own." She smirked at the expression Lily was now sporting. "Little Princess Delacour is a devious bird of prey who has figured out that whichever way you break it down, she has to cut a deal with you sooner or later."

She began ticking off her fingers. "Pettigrew's able to resist her allure with ease, so she can't bewitch him into abandoning you. You're known to be incorruptible, so she can't buy you off with gold or favours or anything like that to make you abandon him. Although by ancient custom she claims him as her husband for saving her hide at the Battle of Hogwarts, if she pushes and he complains to the Wizengamot, she could be run out of the country by a lynch mob. And you're too powerful and wily for her to feasibly succeed in killing you off."

"Gah! You're not seriously suggesting that she's thought about–"

"She's not a muggle – or a human. Why on earth would you expect her to behave like one?"

Lily had no answer to that.

"All of which left mam'selle Apolline with the sole option of presenting him with a deal too good for him to refuse. Why do you think the first thing she did was to drag along the then Miss Lovegood into the mix as a sweetener? Lovegood's in love with Science – and how can we mere mortals hold a candle to that? – so she's no threat to Apolline. Plus it's well known that Lovegoods are, hmmmm how to say it? Typically far less concerned with personal boundaries and orientations than your average magical Briton," she said delicately.

"You're saying she's into wizards _and_ witches. And that she doesn't care if her husband has a stable of women on the side." It wasn't a question. Lily could feel that headache starting to return. The pile of unfinished paperwork on her desk was becoming more and more enticing by the minute.

"Blunt, but not inaccurate." Xiomara conceded.

"And you know what's going on in her head, how? And what's going on in Apolline's head? Have you lot been conspiring behind my back?"

The olive-skinned witch shrugged. "No, we've barely spoken on matters outside of schoolwork and the war. But it's obvious from their behaviour, if you know how to read the signs. For example, the way that Delacour's allure affects Lovegood. Very different from the reaction of your standard witch, which is usually jealous rage. That's a dead giveaway. And I'm sure you've notice that Apolline is awfully touchy-feely with Lovegood, much more so than with her fellow girls from Beauxbatons whom she's known a lot longer. That's another giveaway. And I understand that she openly invited you to be Peter's mistress, before anyone found out about your nuptials. Is it true that she had you stay with her at her home in France over Christmas?"

Lily nodded reluctantly.

"There you go then: multiple blatant overtures to you. It all fits. Don't look so surprised I put it all together: although I now wear Hufflepuff colours, at heart I'm Durmstrang. We are like your House Slytherin. We observe. And scheme. That's what we do. Not being raised in a proper pureblood family, and being unobservant by nature, you're at a disadvantage there. But I can help you improve your skills if you'd like."

Deliberately disregarding the slight, Lily demanded, "What about you? You're okay with ensnaring yourself in this crazy situation?"

"House Zabini has entered into an alliance with the Malfoy family, one that I intend to uphold to the best of my ability. My betrothed is the Head of _three_ Ancient and Noble Houses, something unheard of for at least the last thousand years. One of which is probably the wealthiest House in Britain; the other two less so, but from very old lines, which gives them great social prestige. And all three of which he was able to somehow wrest from their rightful Lords, all while underage! One can only wonder what amazing feats he will achieve in the future. Especially with our support."

"And if you had to get involved with other witches, should such situations arise …?"

"Is not something I'm prepared to discuss with a party who has not formally joined the arrangement." Xiomara said with finality, with a glance at the other three girls who were trying, and failing, to act as if they were busy with their homework and not hanging onto every word.

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 _DEATH EATERS FLEE EUROPE!_

 _Following The Self-Inflicted Demise of Their MRHBDL, Death Eaters and Blood Supremacist Sympathisers Flee Magical Europe For Magical Asia Like Cowards! Dark Forces in Complete Chaos, Confusion, Despair and Disarray!_

 _By Rita Skeeter and Heywood U. Kuddulmee_

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"You know," said Marlene thoughtfully, poking at the mysterious artefact that Zabini had left behind as a 'token' of her seriousness and good faith, "what she said makes a lot of sense."

"Oh no," Lily groaned, dropping her face into the large pile of paperwork that she was trying to distract herself with. The thunk was clearly audible. "Don't tell me you're keen on me becoming a kept woman too?"

"'Course not, Lils," Alice laughed, "We'll support you whatever you want to do. That's what friends are for. I think what she means is it explains a lot about what's been happening."

"Like what?" She raised her head, unaware of the black ink that had smudged all over her face. The others smirked but said nothing.

"Like why so many purebloods have started being so nice to you, and actually follow your orders for once."

"I figured it was because the Slytherins' disappearance got rid of the worst offenders."

"That's part of it I'm sure, but when you think about it, it really started to happen at the beginning of the school year. Before the snakes packed up and slunk away," Marlene explained.

Mary's insatiable curiosity was by now aroused. Discarding even the pretence of making productive headway in her Charms paper, she eagerly asked, "So what do ye think is really going on, lassies?"

"I could be wrong," Marlene said slowly, "but based on what Zabini was hinting at, I sense that the Traditionalists have come to the conclusion that you're the first muggleborn in decades (maybe centuries) to follow the old customs, and are treating you accordingly."

"I don't understand," Lily said, trying to focus on her report. "What does that mean?"

"Oh Lily-flower," Marlene sighed, "you know I love you, but sometimes you can be so ignorant." She dodged the scrunched up ball of paper banished at her. Only to be nailed by the fusillade launched by Mary from the other side.

Cancelling the spellfire in exasperation, Alice interjected, "Can't you lot ever be serious? Look Lils, you know that purebloods are broken up into three main groups," she lectured. "The Purists, the Progressives, and the Traditionalists. The Purists are the most vocal group and they formed the bulk of You-Know-Who's followers. They spout the usual nonsense about killing muggles and so forth, quite depressing fellows. The Purists are ... well, for lack of a better term, _insecure_ : their families aren't as ancient as they'd like most to believe, no more than about 500 years for the oldest. They're basically non-existent around Hogwarts after being purged by Persons Unknown." Lily didn't like the knowing smirk that accompanied that statement. "The second group are made up of people like the Longbottoms, Weasleys, Bones, Diggorys, Prewetts and such. The Progressives, or in common parlance, 'the Light'," she said with a hint of apology, "are at their core _ignorant_. They are the witches and wizards that think we're not so different from the muggles, just know a few things that they don't."

"What's wrong with that?" Lily demanded.

"Human nature," Alice replied. "Humans have a history of destroying that which they do not understand."

"What about the third group?" Mary asked, interested in spite of her general contempt for pureblood bigotry.

"The Traditionalists are the ones that have been polite to Lily lately," Marlene continued. "They don't necessarily feel that muggleborn are inferior. Consensus is that muggleborn are ... well, _rude_ for lack of a better term."

"Oi!" Mary objected hotly, "I take exception to that! I'm extremely bloody polite, ye Sassenach cow-wanker!"

"Of course you are," Marlene said sardonically.

"Exactly. Now take that comment back right now or I'll have yer guts fer haggis!"

"How would you feel if someone came into your home and ignored your customs?" Marlene turned back to Lily. "Not just ignored, but ridiculed and made no effort to learn them? And then did their darndest to change them to their own idea of what's best?"

"Oh."

"Contrariwise, they are polite to those they think are respecting their ways."

"I am?"

"Yes, because to Traditionalists it looks very much like you've attached yourself to Lord Too-Many-Titles as his retainer." Overriding her squawk of protest, Marlene continued, "You followed him out into the Forbidden Forest to protect him, you shielded him and his cronies from the harshest of the punishments McGonagall was dishing out after the Battle of Hogwarts, you're always hanging out with him in hidden locations, presumably carrying out his tasks. You haven't performed several of the traditional duties to him but that can be explained due to your ignorance; the Hogwarts Library has an appalling lack of books on the subject."

Not giving either muggleborn a chance to interrupt, Alice expounded, "The Traditionalists are, if you look at their origins, afraid of muggles. They like to maintain that they are above muggles, or at the very least separate and independent of muggle society. In short, they were started by people who are terrified by what muggles could do. The old families that trace their line to the days when muggles revolted against their wizard masters, families that know that secrecy is the way to safety."

"Unfortunately, with a few exceptions, women aren't worth much in Traditionalist circles," Marlene sighed. "Because the wizarding population is so low compared to muggles, most people seem to think girls should spend all their time pregnant and raising magical children. But every Traditionalist child grows up with stories about loyal muggleborn retainers. That's why you can use it to your advantage."

"Go on," Lily said with deadly calm.

"Ever thought about being the first muggleborn Minister for Magic? Or the first muggleborn Director of the Unspeakables? Or the first muggleborn professor at Hogwarts? What Pandora told you is pretty close to the mark – not surprising, since she's a Malfoy after all. Ordinarily your chances at getting an important role the magical world would be slim to none. If on the other hand, all the Traditionalists see you as Peter's retainer, then they'll assume he's your patron and you're acting as his puppet, his way of staying out of the public eye while wielding power from the shadows. In that case, well the sky's the limit …"

"Alright, that's the final straw! All this insanity has got to stop!"

"Ye keep saying that over and over again," Mary observed in amusement, "yet ye never actually do anathin about it." Lily blinked.

"You're right, Mary," she said decisively. "It's time to confront The Rat Bastard and end this nonsense once and for all!" She stood dramatically, threw on her robe, affixed the golden Head Girl pin and ran a hand through her auburn locks to smooth them down some. "How do I look?"

Mary considered her ink-covered face and hands, rumpled robes and frazzled, bushy hair. "Like ye just lost a fight with a grain thresher. Driven by squids."

Lily merely flipped her off and left.

"Uh oh," Marlene giggled, "I think she thinks you were being facetious."

"But it'll sure make for an interesting encounter," Alice added. "Come on, we don't want to miss it."

"Hang on," Mary demanded, "I left me camera round here somewhere!"

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Lily managed to ditch her tails, and finally located her prey eating his lunch down by the Black Lake, enjoying the rare sunlight and the rare bit of peace and solitude.

"Okay Rat-boy, you're going to stop telling people that we're married or soulmates or destined or whatever other thestral-shite you've been spoon-feeding them!"

"Rat-boy? I resent that!" He took an annoyed bite of his jerky.

"Stop gnawing on that and pay attention to me!"

"Okay." He put his lunch away and took in her … interesting style. "What in Morgana's name happened to you?" he asked in amusement.

"You! You're what happened to me! What is wrong with my life?" Lily lamented. "No sooner do I get rid of one obsessive stalker, but he's immediately replaced by another one! Worse, one who's hell-bent on dragging me into his harem!"

Harry was completely mystified by her rant. "What are you talking about? I've never said a word about you to anyone." Except Ron and Hermione, but they didn't count. If there were two people least interested in the current schoolyard gossip, it was that pair. "And I've never tried to rope you into anything."

"Really? What about that Merlin-damned ritual?!"

"A slight miscalculation," he defended, "it was for the best of intentions, and no harm was done!"

"Look, I don't want to keep fighting with you, Pettigrew," she sighed. "I admit you can be an alright guy when you're not being a complete skeez – just stop saying that I'm your mistress or concubine or retainer or mother or whatever and stay the heck out of my life, and we'll be good."

"I keep telling you I haven't said anything like that to anyone. If somebody told you that, they're either lying or they just made it up."

"Don't play dumb with me."

"I'm genuinely dumb this time."

"All the time, more like it – and lay off the denials, those wives of yours have told me everything!"

"Come again?"

"Yeah I bet you want to; but it won't be with me, Rat-face!"

"Wait a minute," Harry said slowly, coming to a realisation. "This is a put-on, isn't it? You're pretending to be mad to try and guilt me into doing something I'm not gonna want to do, aren't you?" He eyed the startled girl suspiciously. "What do you _really_ want?"

"Eh? No, that's not it …"

"Sure it's not," he said sarcastically. "You think I've learned nothing from Pandora and Apolline?"

Their argument was destined to continue to go round and round in circles for many hours, but for the darkening of the sky and drop in temperature. They could start to hear little whispers of despair at the edges of their consciousness. Lily shivered and drew her robe more tightly around her body. Harry jumped to his feet.

"That's it, I've had all I can stand, I can't stands no more!" Harry snapped.

"What? Where are you going?" demanded Lily, as he stormed off.

He yelled over his shoulder, "I've had it with all these motherfrelling Dementors in this motherfrelling school!"

"You're deliberately going out into the middle of a horde of Dementors?" the redhead shrieked in disbelief as she chased after him.

"Sure am! You know what they say: every day, do one thing that scares you. Maybe do four things. Live in constant fear! Whadya have to lose?" He began to laugh hysterically. Lily was becoming ever more concerned about the sanity of her friend. Who knew he had such an extreme reaction to the foul creatures? She was about to persuade him to return with her, when he whipped out his wand. " _Expecto Patronem!_ " The glowing silver stag leaped out of his wand … hmmmm it looked different to the last time she'd seen it, when he'd demonstrated the charm to the HA. Its body was rounder, less angular, with shorter legs and shorter antlers. It sported a smaller, pointier muzzle and much larger whiskers. Harry leaped onto the back of his sorta-stag Patronus, its shimmering corporeal body more than capable of carrying his weight. "Get back to the kitchens and fill up on hot chocolate. I'm going to have a little word with these soul-suckers. Heigh ho, Prongs!" he proclaimed, waving his wand in front of him as if it were a sword. "And upon this charge, cry: 'God for Harry, England and St George!'" And they were off.

Lily stared for a second, then the icy drops of rain began pelting her, driving her back to reality. Cursing herself for her 'saving people thing', she whipped out her wand and followed.

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Harry and Patronus-Prongs fought their way through the howling gale and the tenebrous clouds that gathered around the large cluster of Dementors. The hellspawn were milling around aimlessly near the Quidditch Stadium. Harry was slowly acclimatising to their powerful auras, his rat-instincts' screaming was settling, and his bout of mad hysteria starting to dissipate as he ran through his Occlumency exercises over and over again. Thank Merlin he'd at least kept enough of a grip on his sanity and his magic to maintain Prongs; his faithful steed's reliable, steady presence gave him renewed confidence, even as they canted through the midst of the valley of the shadow of death. Eventually his mind had cleared enough to focus on his spellcasting.

Alright, it was go-time! Time to put his game-face on. Time to put all his necromancy to good use. Time to see the fruits of his many hours of apprenticing under Dirk and Master Dee. Swishing his wand back and forth, he cast a spell summoning the demons to approach, to present themselves for his inspection. With short, sharp, piercing, keening yelps, the foul creatures began shuffling towards him and forming uneven ranks.

Feeling another, stronger wave of despair swirl through him, Harry focused harder on his Occlumency, gradually shrugging off the concentrated effects. For the first time when facing these things, Harry focused his mind and magic on pushing 'through' their necromantic auras the way Dirk had showed him, and suddenly, his eyes could pierce the Dementors' veils. Though everything else around them remained as before, dim and dark, the dark shapes themselves became terribly clear. He was able to see beneath their black wrappings to the ethereal bodies beneath. They were tall figures. In their white faces burned keen and merciless eyes, under their mantles were long grey robes, upon their long grey hair were helms of silver, their bare hands were rough and haggard, fingernails long and twisted and metallic, reminding him of swords and steel for some reason. Their pure white eyes fell on him and pierced him, as they rushed towards him. Desperate, he flicked his wand as if he were waving a firebrand at a pack of hungry wild beasts, and they flinched away from him, eventually settling into a loose semicircle, floating lazily two feet off the ground.

With his new sight, Harry could now discern that eight of the Dementors were taller than the others, their hair was much longer and gleaming. On their helms sat crowns of gold that glowed with a pale light. These figures were clearly the dominant ones of the pack, and the ones to whom he directed his ire. Summoning up Nagini from her slumber, he imagined the pale figures as writhing serpents and began to speak.

 _§Who daresss intrude in my domain!?§_ he demanded of them, hoping against hope that Master Dee was correct.

 _§Yoursss?§_ one of the taller creatures hissed derisively _. §You are lessss than nothing, puny mortal. Thisss ssschool is our territory now. All who enter it are our prey. None ssstand between a Dementor and itsss prey.§_

 _§My wand and will say otherwisssse. I've beaten you before and I'll do it again, over and over if necessssary,§_ Harry declared, with far more confidence than he was actually feeling. Twirling his wand in a complex manoeuvre, he cast another spell, tightening the invisible bonds that clamped them to their current location.

 _§You think you can break ussss?§_

 _§Why not?§_ Harry replied. _§I have already purged Hogwartsss of itssss sssnakes, and now I intend to purge Britain of itssss Dementorssss!§_

 _§Who are you!?§_ the nightmarish creature demanded.

Harry grinned rakishly. _§Call me Ssssst Patrick.§_

"Pettigrew! Where are you?!" A voice in the dark.

Harry turned to see a pale silver glow approaching him. Lily Evans hurried towards him, her Patronus lighting her path. It did not yet have a distinct shape, but formed a cloud-like mass of shimmering magic that drove the shadows and chill away before it.

"Over here, Lils!" he called, waving his free hand. Prongs waved one of its forelegs encouragingly.

"What … the hell … is wrong … with you … reckless nutter," she panted, pulling up alongside her friend.

"What do you mean? I've faced these things at least four times before. And now I'm at the end of my patience with these demons'-entrails! Why are you here?"

"Why? You ask me why?! As if I'd let you charge into the Merry Old Land of Demons without me! How dare you rush off alone like that!"

"Well, I mean …"

"Next time you feel the need to act stupid, You Will Tell Me before you rush off by yourself," she growled.

"Understood," he said in defeat.

"What were you doing just now? I heard a lot of hissing." She stepped up beside Harry, then boldly leaped up onto Prongs behind him. With a sigh of relief, she released her vague cloud thingie Patronus from her control, and it faded out of existence.

"Parseltongue."

"You're a Parselmouth!? Great, yet one more secret from Pettigrew's bottomless skeleton-closet. How many do you have left? Why didn't you tell anyone about your abilities?"

"What, and have the entire school turn on me for being a budding 'dark wizard'," Harry scoffed. "No thanks, I have enough problems with actual dark wizards."

"You wouldn't have the school thinking those sorts of things if you didn't go around brawling with Slytherins in the Great Hall or recruiting your friends to become Dark Lords and Dark Ladies!" she replied severely.

"Point," he admitted. "But the Parselmouth thing really doesn't help. Wizards and witches seem to be obsessed with the idea that it's a mark of Pure Evil or something."

"So how did you know it would work on Dementors?" she asked curiously. She shivered as the cold seemed to increase physically; she could see her breath in the air. Wrapping her left arm tightly around his torso (careful to keep her wand and wand-arm free and ready), she cuddled up against his back. His body (as well as Prongs's between her legs) were surprisingly warm for being stuck in the eye of this maelstrom of arctic chill.

"Master Dee; he told me Parseltongue didn't only work for talking to snakes, but, combined with the appropriate necromantic focus, could theoretically be used for direct communication with spirits, shades and other dead and/or demonic entities, such as these things."

"Theoretically?"

He shrugged. "The talent is so rare it's difficult to test its full capabilities. But, as Master Dee put it, you don't really think Salazar Slytherin went to all the trouble of sacrificing 100 magical virgins in some bizarre unrecorded ritual in order to bind this magical ability permanently to his blood and magic, and to ensure it was passed down through his bloodline, if it was good for nothing but to be able to gossip with the most vain, self-obsessed stick-in-the-muds of the animal kingdom?"

 _Hey! I resent that! Nagini hissed._

 _The Grim howled with laughter._

"I mean," Harry continued absently, ignoring the internal argument, "being able to command basilisks would be pretty cool, and useful for the state of war they were in at the time, but for the same amount of time and energy it'd take to breed basilisks or any other giant serpents, his enemies could build up armies, or transfigure hordes of dangerous creatures to attack _en masse_. Doesn't seem a practicable use of magic or skill, you know?"

"He … he sacrificed 100 virgins for it?" she asked sickly.

"According to legend, yes – he needed that many to power the death and soul magic he was invoking, and binding to his soul … Allegedly. As I said, the ritual was unrecorded so it's all idle speculation whether 100 virgins were involved or 1000 or one or none at all. For all we know, Salazar sacrificed 1000 tea cozys to Pyros, because he had a lifelong desire to talk to snakes for no other reason than that he was a crazy son of an inbred family line who wore his underwear outside of his pants and walked around on his hands instead of his feet! Who really knows?"

"I think I'm gonna be ill."

"Hang in there, we're gonna get through this," he encouraged her, giving her arm around him a squeeze of reassurance. "The point is, Master Dee and his colleagues at the Guild of Necromancers are of the belief that the whole purpose of the ritual was to obtain permanent necromantic powers, and the talking-to-snakes schtick was merely an unexpected side-effect. It starts to make a bit of sense when you remember that, from ancient times, snakes were worshipped as symbols of life and death, rebirth and renewal. The Epic of Gilgamesh in Mesopotamia, the Egyptian Uraeus, the Nagas of India, and so forth. This seemed like an ideal time to test the hypothesis, as Pandora would say."

 _It's possible, the Otter chittered. The only other Parselmouth around was always extremely proficient with necromancy; he did become the only person in history to ever split his soul into multiple horcruxes. I imagine that would be immensely difficulty even for a master necromancer, let alone a complete novice!_

"And if it didn't work like you thought it would?"

"Then these Dementors would be enjoying the taste of Patronus sandwich force-fed down their hideous dry gullets."

Lily couldn't help giving a dry, rasping laugh of her own.

"Feeling a bit better now? Good. Now we're going to see what we can do about resolving our country's ongoing Dementor infestation."

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Lily become impatient after 20 minutes of solid, endless hissing between Pettigrew and these disgusting monsters. The ongoing, bone-penetrating chill was setting her teeth increasingly on edge. It may have been her imagination, but it seemed as if her warming charms were wearing off faster each time she cast them. To make matters worse, she was being excluded from the conversation. If there was one thing Lily Evans hated, it was being excluded! "What are they saying?" she finally insisted, her curiosity at such a pitch it felt it was about to explode from her being.

"They're telling me about their history – how they came to be like they are. Apparently, they were originally some sort of species of powerful magical bird-like things, it's why they can fly around. A bit like phoenixes, I guess. Except their speciality was soul magic. That's why Dementors have such a big effect on your emotions, since they emanate from your soul. But in ancient times, some Dark Lord captured them; he wanted to utilise their soul-swallowing powers for his own nefarious ends. He had no use for their more positive abilities, so tore their beings in half and only kept their dark parts. It's why they're constantly trying to suck positive emotions and souls from people. Always trying to fill the gaping, insatiable emptiness in the very heart of their being."

"How horrible!" Lily never thought she'd ever feel pity for Dementors of all things.

"Yeah; they're basically the tormented ghosts of an extinct species. Many of them have even tried to kill themselves over the centuries just to end all the suffering, but since they're not exactly alive, it never works. Only known way is the Flown Charm, and virtually nobody has the skill or power to cast it. There's a bunch more details, but that's the main gist of it."

"And here I was thinking they were just a bunch of monarchs from ancient times that were enslaved to the Dark Lord Sauron via magic rings," Lily said sarcastically, trying to ward off her natural compassion that was threatening to engulf her. She did not want to become some sort of Dementors' welfare activist! She was surprised when the creatures reared back in fright.

 _§Speak not His name!§_ the spokesmentor snarled. The other creatures hissed and rattled in in anger.

"Uh I don't think they like you saying that guy's name," Harry said, in admiration at her knowledge. Eventually the monsters settled down and ceased their nervous flitting to and fro. "I'm impressed; you really _are_ the brightest witch of our generation – how did you know that stuff about the Dark Lord Whatsisname? Was it something else I missed while I was sleeping through Binns' class?"

"Don't tell me you've never read _The Lord of the Rings_? _The Hobbit_? Any of Tolkien?" she demanded, deciding to ignore that comment about their History of Magic classes.

The blank expression on his face was answer enough.

"You really need to get some culture."

He shrugged "Probably. What is this _Lord of the Rings_ thingie – a seventh year book?"

"It's a series of muggle fantasy books I read as a kid. I _thought_ it was fiction, but …"

Harry nodded. "I'm not surprised; I hear a lot of wizarding folk write about the magical world, their own experiences, magical legends, magical history and so forth, and publish them in the muggle world as fantasy fiction. They change the names of people and places just enough avoid getting in trouble with the Ministry. 10 to 1 this author you're talking about was one of 'em." He'd encountered such things before in his past/future life. One Squib woman had even had the gall to publish an entire series of 'Boy-Who-Lived' stories, which had become muggle bestsellers no less. _Harry Potter and the Something Something or Other._ He still winced in memory of how much of a whining git she had portrayed him as. Still, he was secure in the comfort that none of his friends were ever likely to read them.

"Anyway, if I remember my Tolkien correctly, these things were called Nazgûl or ring-wraiths or witch-kings."

 _§We have been called by many names: Dementorsss, demonsss, monstersss, hellssspawn, wraithsss, Nazgûl, Nunbolg, Ulairi, lichssss, wightsss, witch-kingsss, sssoul-suckersss, the walking dead, the children of Lolth, the Great Old Onesss, and more.§_

"That's a bit sexist, calling them witch-kings," Harry observed. "When at least one of them is clearly female."

"Really?"

"Sure. You see these eight," he gestured to eight of the monstrous demons, who (to Lily's eye) looked exactly the same as all the rest. "They're the 'witch-kings' you're talking about, the big cheeses of this herd. Although it's more accurate to say, six witch-kings and two, I think, witch-queens. It's a bit difficult to tell, since they're wearing male-type armour and crowns, just like the rest. The spokesmentor here is definitely a queen. Camel the Easterbunny or something, her name is, I think. We're still having some trouble communicating. Ruled a country called Runes."

"What is it with you and your obsession with bunnies!? Is it the whole 'Peter Rabbit' thing? Because if so, it's gotten really old by now. Really really old."

"That's what she's saying!" Harry protested. "At least I think it is. Names are tricky, there's all sorts of nuances."

"I'm surprised they didn't leave any of their leaders behind to guard Azkaban," the Head Girl said, changing the subject.

Harry turned back to the black shapes and they hissed some more.

"From what I can make out, Azkaban is a very boring place if you're a Dementor. Probably a very boring place if you're a human too; that is, when you're not screaming in existential terror," Harry shuddered. "But if you're a Dementor, there's nothing to do but float around endlessly on the same rounds century after century, feeding on whatever scraps of emotions the pitiful wrecks of what once were human beings can produce. They're almost always starving. That's why they jump at the chance to get away for a while. Offsite assignments like the one here at Hogwarts are considered plum gigs. It's no wonder their head honchos are the ones who are first in line for these junkets."

 _At least you can rest easy, satisfied in your own importance, knowing that the two Dementors who tried to eat your and Dudley's souls in Little Whinging were most likely demonic royalty, the Grim noted sagely. And probably the ones that tried to eat you at the Quidditch game, and tried to eat you when you were chasing after Sirius._

 _Wow, I feel so honoured, Harry replied sarcastically._

"Anyway, there used to be nine of them, but their captain was slain by some human queen millennia ago," Harry concluded.

"Angmar, I think," Lily supplied, face scrunched in concentration. The creatures ratted and groaned once more.

"You're right again – guess this Talkie fellow really knew his stuff. Though _how_ he knew it in the first place," Harry said pensively, "is a rather disturbing question … maybe he was a necromancer; or a guard at Azkaban." He stroked his non-existent beard. "Anyway, this Camel woman-wraith-thingie was the second-in-command, so when the king of kings bit it, she took over, and has been calling the shots since."

 _§Tell me lichsss,§_ he hissed, _§if you had the chance to leave thessse issslesss and sssseek other climessss, would you do ssssso?§_

 _§Of courssssse,§_ one of the witch-kings replied immediately. _§We have drained thissss missserable poor land assss much asss we can get away with. Our leasssshesss are too tight to feed properly on the cattle that infest thesssse countriesss.§_

 _§Then you are in luck – I have a once-in-a-millennium opportunity for you and your clan. I and my companionssss leave sssshortly to go to war in a far dissstant land. You are welcome to join ussss if you agree to never try to conssssume our emotionsss or sssoulsss, only thossse of our enemiessss. In return, I will bring you to a place, a wild place with few lawsssss and little government, but many many foesssss for you to sssslake your hungerssss with. Where you may roam free once the war is over.§_

Lily again grew impatient as her friend and the shadowy beasts continued their hissing discussion for some time. Just when she was about to interrupt them again, Pettigrew abruptly stood and laid out a bag he had in his robe pocket for some reason. To her surprise, the host of dark creatures lined up and proceeded to float into the bag's opening until all had gone. Pettigrew sealed the bag and secured it once more. She could feel the air starting to warm; the dark clouds overhead began to dissipate, and the chill began to leave her aching bones.

"What's that bag?"

"Something Umbridge got for me. Acquired it from one of her contacts, I didn't ask for details."

"What happened with the Dementors," she demanded shakily.

"I've just made a deal with them."

"To do what?" she asked suspiciously.

"To rid Britain of their foul presence now and forevermore! St Patrick, eat your heart out!" he declared grandly. He paused. "I see you're speechless. Not surprising, I don't think anyone's ever tried to do it before, they've mostly focused on trying to keep the disgusting things locked away as much as possible. Come on, I'll explain it to you on the way."

So saying he linked an arm with hers and led the stunned redhead towards Hogsmeade.

"The Dementors are unhappy in this country; they can't do what they want, can't eat what they want, can't go where they want, etc. So if I can find somewhere to put them that's far far away from any human being, then everyone wins, especially Magical Britain! And it permanently removes another potential ally for Dark Lords and such."

"And do you have a place like that in mind?"

He shrugged vaguely. "If worst comes to worst, I'll ask Lily Luna to use The Device to take them to the Precambrian Era or suchlike and leave them there. Or we seal up this pocket dimension in the deepest darkest vault we can find, ward it to hell and back, then dump the vault at the bottom of the Marinas Trench. Or send them to the Moon. I wonder if Sallie can turn them to stone? We'll think of something."

"Who's Sallie?"

"A friend." They reached the wardline, which Harry observed critically for a while. Extracting his wand, he cast a number of obscure charms.

"Hmmmmm. Definitely a necromantic ward here. Must be what keeps the Dementors trapped on the Hogwarts grounds. A novice like me can't break on through to the other side. I wonder if having the Dementors in an Enclosed Space would let us bypass the barrier instead. This sounds like a job for Science!"

"You've been hanging around Pandora waaaay too much."

"So says the girl who willingly became her lab partner for the HA and never looked back!"

"Yes, well, it's nice to spend time with someone so brilliant and non-linear. You never know what sparks will be generated. Plus it makes homework completion orders of magnitude faster."

Harry smiled. "I'm glad you two are getting on so well." He deliberately took several steps forward, then flinched and leaped backwards, as if he'd just suffered an electric shock. From inside his robe came a high-pitched wailing. The two students shielded their ears until it subsided. "Okay, that sure didn't work!" He paced around for a while thinking. Then, "Eureka! I bet they didn't ward the secret passages though!"

So saying, he turned and began to run towards the castle, Lily hurrying along behind him. Finding the statue of the one-eyed witch, Harry slipped behind it and made his way to the Honeydukes exit.

"So you know about this secret passage eh? Somehow that doesn't shock me."

"Doesn't everybody in school know about it?" Harry asked bewildered. "I mean, how else does the student body stay supplied with chocolate throughout the year?"

"It does explain why all the younger years are always so hyper," she agreed.

Harry suddenly stopped. "We're past the Hogwarts' wardlines now," pointing to the trapdoor that marked the entrance into the back room of the chocolatier. "And we made it without any trouble; thank Merlin for lazy Ministry officials!" Throwing his arms around her in a boisterous hug, he grinned happily.

"This is nice and all," Lily commented mildly. "But you can let me go now."

"Sure thing," he winked impishly, in a manner strongly reminiscent of another redhead. Then side-along apparated them.

"Wha … since when can you apparate?!" the surprised girl demanded.

"Since ages."

"This another one of those skills that 'Harry' person had?"

"You know what, I think it just might be."

"Enough chattering, you sarcastic bastard, and more explaining where we are."

They were standing on a rocky shoreline, nearby an old wooden jetty. In answer, Harry merely raised a finger and pointed out to the choppy wine-dark sea. "You can't see it, but Azkaban is in that direction, miles out there." He pulled out the bag again, and a single, seven-foot tall black shape drifted out.

Lily found herself shivering again.

"Camel and I are going to do our thing, and try to see if we can get all those Dementors out there in here. Hopefully it'll work – Camel says that Azkaban's Dementor wards extend all the way out to the coastline. So they can chase escapees all the way here, if the poor sods ever make it this far."

 _It really makes you realise how impressive Sirius' escape from Azkaban really was, the Otter mused. Breaking out of his cell, breaking out of the layers of bars and steel doors, breaking out of the main gates, then swimming 50 miles across stormy, sub-zero, Dementor-haunted ocean to make it to land. And then survive for another year subsisting as a dog on rubbish and rats._

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"This is like the setting from one of the gothic horror novels I used to devour when I was 13," Lily observed, looking around the giant cathedral within the Expanded Space bag. Several hundred Dementors milled around, poking into every room and crevice curiously. The atmosphere felt cold and thick. The sounds of clanking, rattling and hissing echoed in the vast empty spaces.

"It _is_ every Dementor in the UK, all in one spot." Harry said with satisfaction. "Never thought this'd be a sight we'd ever see, eh? _§Is this sufficient?§_ " he hissed.

 _§It will ssssuffice for the pressssent, until we reach our dessstination,§_ " one of the shadows hissed back.

 _§I intend to have my basssilisssk travel with you in thisss sssspace. Pleassse do not bother her; ssshe will be bunking in the rear chamber over there,§_ Harry added. _§Ssshe isss one of my alliesss and sssso isss off-limitsss.§_

 _§Irrelevant,§_ one of the witch-kings replied. _§We cannot feed on non-human sssoulsss or emotionssss. Your ssssnake will remain unaffected by our aurassss.§_

 _§Good. One other thing – behold, the Veil of Death from the DoM!§_ Harry threw open one of the large, wooden doors. Beyond, in the small side-room, indeed stood the Veil of Death in all its sinister, ethereal grey and blue glory. _§I have no idea if it will work, but for thossse of you who long to end your exissstence, it may be a meanssss for your ssssalvation. It isss at leassst worth a try, no?§_

Harry and Lily had to hastily step aside as a sudden rush of Dementors hurried over to the room. The crowd jostled each other as they squeezed into the room and through the mysterious portal from whence nothing ever returned. Wave after wave followed them, each disappearing one by one, the arch giving a soft sighing noise every time. Soon there were 10 left, then five, then two, then one, then none. The two students waited for a few minutes, curious to see if anything would re-emerge. But their waiting was in vain: the arch was silent, the Veil was silent, nothing moved in the little room. Harry couldn't even hear the subtle whisperings that he'd heard that terrible time when Sirius had –

The remaining 100 or so Dementors offered no comment, and barely seemed interested in the fate of their fellows. Harry decided to leave the door open, in case any of the others decided later to take the plunge.

The two students silently exited the bag. Harry put it away. Harry apparated them both back to the Honeydukes secret passage. They stared at each other wordlessly for a while.

"Well," Lily eventually offered. "That happened."

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	27. Interlude: Buy the Ticket, Take the Ride

**Author's Note:**

This is a continuation/soft reboot of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse, with a bunch of changes. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" by Rorschach's Blot. Both are used with the permission of their original authors. The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter or anything else.

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Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.

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Canon-compliant. HP&DH compliant (except the Epilogue). HP&CC compliant (except the conclusion). FB&WTFT compliant. Pottermore compliant (mostly).

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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "A Bad Week at the Wizengamot" by DisobedienceWriter.

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Question of the Week: Got Milk?

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* * *

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 **Interlude – Buy the Ticket, Take the Ride**

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I don't know what I am any more, or what I'm feeling

Now I'm on fire, now I'm freezing.

– _The Marriage of Figaro_

 _._

"Father, I'm off to Magical Asia with Lord Potter-Black and the rest of my friends to rescue or avenge our kidnapped time-displaced comrades!" Pandora Malfoy-Lovegood yelled.

"Alright, crabapple, do you want me to set an extra place for dinner?" Insanus called back.

"I believe that we'll be spending the remainder of the year and possibly a bit of next year on the run, fighting impossible odds against nigh-invincible foes!" Pandora replied cheerfully. "Not counting the risk of possible time or dimensional displacement of our own! So I do not believe that we will be returning for dinner!"

"Alright, have fun!"

"If something happens to me, please remember to avenge my death!" Pandora bellowed as she packed.

"I will, carrot-tail, don't forget your killing knife that is reputed to entrap the souls of those it cuts in a phantom zone of infinite imprisonment!"

"Where is my pack filled with useful things, Father?" Pandora asked loudly.

"In the closet where you left it!" he yelled.

Pandora checked and her pack was indeed in the closet. "Thankyou, Father, I shall see you when I see you!"

"Alright, kelp, I'll try to remember to henge your beth!"

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A 21-year old Lily Luna strode into Pandora's lab and saw Harry busily reading through his inventory lists. A 17-year old Lily Luna was curled up asleep on his lap. He stroked her crimson tresses absently as he read. Heroically resisting the urge to squeal out loud at how cute they looked together, she announced in a muted voice, "I'm all packed."

"That's nice," Harry said distractedly. "What for?" He looked up and finally noticed that she was decked out in Indiana Jones-style apparel. Leather hat, brown leather jacket, olive shirt and trousers, utility belt stocked with a dozen wicked-looking knives, bullwhip, a large backpack bulging with equipment slung over one shoulder.

"Like it?" she did a few poses. "I'm a real Lara Croft."

"Who?"

Lily Luna sighed. "Wizards," she grumbled good-naturedly.

"What are you packed for? You going to a comics convention or a roadshow?" he joked.

She rolled her eyes. "For the trip to Japan, you doofus."

"What?! You're too young to go on such a dangerous journey, Elle," he protested. "We're going to be facing strange cultures and extreme dangers!"

"I'm five years older than you are, buster!" she shot back. "And I've just completed my COMC Mastery." She waved an official document at him. He could see the gold-embossed Ministry seal at the bottom. "Face it – I'm the most mature and most qualified member of this party."

"I'm 36 years old if you add up my current 16 years with my previous 20!"

"Those don't count," she dismissed breezily, "you didn't live all of them, Pettigrew carried a good chunk of the load."

"Don't make me pull the father card on you!"

"You can't," she sniffed. "You're not my father, my father is Chief Baker Harry James Potter from my world, husband of Ginevra Molly Weasley and parent of two other magical children. He was caught in a freak time loop accident, an accident _you_ were responsible for arranging to be undone. You gave me back my father eight years ago – something for which he owes you a Life Debt, incidentally. And since he has no recollection of it – and he's in a different universe – he won't be able to repay you, leaving it my responsibility to uphold House Potter's honour."

"And how exactly will you satisfy this so-called Life Debt?"

"I'm sure I'll think of something," she said airily. "Starting with coming along on this fantastic voyage – er, highly dangerous mission!"

"But, but … The Device will automatically return you to your time after half an hour. Won't it be impractical to have to keep jumping back to this point dozens of times a day? Wouldn't that disrupt your life a lot?"

"Yes, that would be very annoying. Which is why I gave The Device to Al to look after for me once we arrived here. When the timer's up, The Device'll take him back; since I'm not touching it when it hits zero, I stay here."

Harry got to his feet, careful not to wake the sleeping girl. "Where's Al? And how long does the timer have?"

"I think he went to the kitchens," she said casually, lowering her backpack onto the nearest table. "And the timer is due to run out," she consulted her wristwatch, "now. Guess he's back home already." She laughed unrepentantly at his groan.

A sudden flash, and the seventh-year Lily Luna vanished.

The 21-year old Lily Luna smirked. "And there goes the other Device. That settles it: I'm stuck here in this time now, and there's nothing you can do about it!"

"Won't you miss your parents, and your siblings, and your friends?"

She sobered a bit. "Yes, I will. But they know I have to seek my own way in life; how many times in your life do you get the chance at a grand adventure? And Al's promised to bring them visiting from time to time. I gave him a vial of my blood for the Deluminator, so he won't have any trouble finding me. Maybe Aunt Hermione and the Unspeakables can figure out a way to let people stay longer than half an hour."

Lily Luna grabbed up her backpack and helped Harry gather his papers. Together they made their way back to the other members of the HA.

"Anyway," she sniffed condescendingly, "there's no point in arguing. I've been to your future lots of times and I already know that you bring me along. I even save everyone's life more than once. So you can either argue about it with me for the next week, and lose, or you can save yourself and everybody else a lot of aggravation and just give up now."

Harry sighed. "I'm destined to lose this one, aren't I?"

"Do you ever win against one of your women?"

"I suppose not." He harrumphed. "Well, if you're coming along, we'd better speak to Dolores about getting you translator studs."

"Yay!" cheered Lily Luna. "Onward to adventure we go!"

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"When I said, 'onward to adventure we go', Peter, I didn't mean crawl around in a dark, filthy hole," Lily Luna grumped.

"But I thought you wanted to be this Larissa Loft woman?" Harry replied innocently. "I got the impression that she was some sort of explorer or something."

"She's a tomb raider," the redhead huffed.

"Well you won't find anything closer to a real tomb this side of Egypt or Rome than the Chamber of Secrets," Harry replied sensibly, hissing to the gate to open.

"Ugh!" the woman recoiled at the sight of the chintzy décor. "You let Uncle Ron decorate this place, didn't you?" she accused.

"Guilty as charged."

"Ick. A priceless piece of Hogwarts and magical European heritage, destroyed forever by one colourblind sports fanatic! And what are you doing?"

Harry had set down a bag onto the middle of the Chamber's chamber and was busily levitating petrified students into it one by one.

"In-flight snacks."

"Excuse me?"

"For my horde of pet Dementors," he replied, refusing to look at her. "What, just because they're terrifying monsters doesn't mean they don't get hungry while travelling!"

She stared at him in horror.

"Don't look at me like that," he snapped defensively. "It's not only Parselmouths who can get into the Chamber, you know. Anyone who speaks or can imitate the language can open the doors. Dear Uncle Ron can, for example. I don't want to take the slightest risk that Grindelwald or any of his patsies, or the Purists or Traditionalists, or anyone else that may come along, gets down here and wakes them all up. Especially since there won't be a basilisk guarding the place. I'd rather not hand another would-be Dark Lord a ready-made army of rich, muggle-hating footsoldiers on a silver platter."

"I get what you're saying," she said slowly, "but to just feed a bunch of totally helpless people to Dementors seems awfully, I don't know – cold and calculating. Inhumane."

Harry winced. "Well, I guess. But I'd rather they go now, quietly and without a fuss, than have to fight and kill them one by one on the field of battle, while they're surrounded by their allies. Or have them escape justice and go on murdering sprees again once the heat is off …"

"Is this what you meant by 'fighting like a rat'?"

He shrugged. "Guess so."

"You're still mad about what happened to Dumbledore."

"Yes," he admitted gruffly. "Both times. But it's more than that. I keep thinking about them, you know. Cedric. Hedwig. Fred. Tonks. Moony. Padfoot. Moody. Bones. Colin Creevy. Luna and Hermione in the Manor. The Evanses. All those muggleborn who ended up in the camps, who were never seen again. The Ministry still hadn't found their graves by the time Ron, Hermione and I ended up here. They all lived or died fighting, or would've if they could've. But they shouldn't have had to. Ordinary people can only sleep safely in their beds because rough men are out there somewhere, willing to do violence on their behalf. In this world and the last, I seem to always be one of the rough men. I'd rather that none of those people or their ilk ever have to face the tips of the wands of these people," he gestured to the bag, "or their children or children's children. At some point this cycle's got to stop. That means the dark families have got to go _in toto_ ; they've been simmering in a violent, vicious stew for 100 generations, passing it on to future generations. Somebody's gotta knock the wheel off its axle or it'll never stop turning."

"Remind me never to piss you off," she shivered.

"It's funny, Goldenrod said the same thing to me not long ago. But when you think about it, is it really any different from me putting out a hit on the entire Death Eater community of Britain and France? That was pretty extreme and calculating … I don't know. Am I on a slippery slope? Is the whole war turning me into a callous evil bastard?" he sighed.

Lily Luna chewed her bottom lip in worry, but did not respond.

"Alright, that's the last of them. _§Ssssallie! Are you around?§_ "

 _§Yessss masssster.§_

 _§Could you pleassse clossse your eyesss and come out here? How would you feel about going on a little trip?§_

 _§I would prefer to ssstay in my nesssst.§_

 _§Come on, it'll be fun!§_

 _§I dissslike 'fun'.§_

 _§There will be lotssss of people and creaturesss to eat,§_ Harry wheedled. _§Plenty of crunchie munchiesssss to feassst on, which you cannot do here, in a ssssschool full of children.§_

 _§My job isss to protect Hogwartsss.§_ Sallie insisted.

 _§And you will do sssso mossst effectively by coming with me and consssuming the children'sss enemiessss. Better to take them down far away than let them near the ssssschool.§_

 _§Hmmmm.§_ Sallie still sounded ambivalent.

 _§I'll build you a nice new nesssst to sssssleep in.§_ Harry was not above open bribery when it came to his 'pet.'

 _§With branchesss and leavesss and blanketsss and cushionssss and leather and bonesssesss?§_ the giant snake asked hopefully.

 _§Asss many asss you want.§_

 _§Very well,§_ the basilisk grumbled. _§I will assssissst the sssschool asss you asssk, massster. But only asss long asss I am happy with my nesssst, and have lotsss of crunchiessss.§_

 _§I promisssse.§_

Lily still looked a bit green as she helped Harry construct a new lair for the monstrous serpent inside the colostomy bag of holding, under the detailed direction of the fussy creature. But she said nothing further for the next two hours.

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 _"Yes Lily, I understand that you created a device that compressed a trans-phasic runic array and allowed you to use that as the power source for your trans-spectral trans-mogrifier. However, as you failed to account for the buffer overload, you will have to live with the fact that you now, when combined with your experimental modified polyjuice, have cat ears and a tail. Probably forevermore," Pandora lectured the redhead sternly. "This is a result of you not following proper procedure and, at the very least, documenting your work so you could undo what you have wrought. But never fear! Look on the bright side – you're still better off than Peter."_

 _"Narf!"_

 _"Yes yes, have a piece of mouldy cheese for your reward, there's a good boy."_

 _"I object – zis eez a travesty! I weel not allow zis rude Eeenglishwoman to 'ave wings like mine – let 'er fly to ze moon on ze 'Ogwarts Express like all ze other common peegs–"_

"Hello, Lily Evans," Pandora chirped. "How are you doing this fine morning?" Lily was dragged into the world of the living to the sound of her friend and lab partner's inappropriately cheerful voice. Groggily opening her eyes, she saw her friend crawl through the Head Girl's Suite's window dressed in a 19th century safari suit, though with a short white skirt.

"Pandora?" Lily exclaimed in shock as she quickly buttoned up her nightshirt and threw on a skirt, wondering if her dozing thoughts had crossed over into full-blown hallucinations. "How did you get in here?"

"I compelled Argus Filch to tell me which window of the castle belongs to the Head Girl's Suite," Pandora replied with a dazed grin. "We have 15 minutes to leave if you wish to leave with us and 15 minutes to visit if you wish to stay."

"We've got less time than that if Filch tells McGonagall that you came to see me from the outside of the castle," Lily said dryly. "Who's 'us' and where's 'us' going?"

"Not to worry, Mr Filch will not be telling anyone what transpired between us. Too busy sobbing like a seven-year old girl, ohohohohoho!" she laughed in an unhinged fashion and a tone that suggested she believed the matter settled.

"Um ..." Lily was unsure of what she was supposed to say to a girl she was currently dreaming about because obviously she'd fallen asleep while studying. And even though dream-Pandora was a product of her own mind, she still didn't want to know what dream-Pandora had done to the dream- sour caretaker.

"I would suggest that you start packing," Pandora prompted. "And I would further suggest that you bring along any item or items that you ever wish to see again." The girl blushed. "I am afraid that I will be forced to do something a bit naughty to cover our tracks, you may feel free to spank me after we escape."

 _Yep, definitely dreaming,_ Lily decided. "You still haven't told me where we're going."

"No time! The sooner we complete our escape, the sooner you can properly chastise me with a good spanking, and we had better make our escape in the next 15 minutes if we wish to have any hope of success," Pandora pointed out, waving her wand vaguely. The contents of the Suite swiftly organised themselves and packed themselves into a mokeskin pouch that Pandora held out with her other hand.

"Where'd you get that? Aren't mokeskin pouches incredibly rare?"

"Miss Umbridge liberated it from the Neanderthals of the DoM so that they could be put to actual useful use, bwahahahahahhahaha! Right, that's everything, let's go."

"Uh, I s'pose," the Head Girl said blearily. "Where's Narcissa?"

"She was packed and ready hours ago, lazybones, and is awaiting us at our destination. Now," Pandora commanded, "grab my breasts!"

"What?" Lily asked flatly.

"My bra is a portkey," Pandora explained.

"That's ... actually kinda brilliant," Lily admitted. _You're always in contact with it, it's out of sight, and it's unusual enough to escape most cursory searches._

"I know," Pandora agreed happily. It gave her the perfect excuse to have her friends grope her. "Let's go."

"Alright, Pandora." She gingerly slipped her hands under the other girl's blouse. "Ready when you are."

"That won't do at all, you'll end up falling off halfway through," Pandora chastised, reaching up to grip Lily's hands, forcing the Head Girl to give her a mighty grope.

Lily's startled squeak was concurrent with the experience of feeling like they were being pushed out the universe's sphincter. A whorl of lights and colours and they arrived at their destination.

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Harry saw Pandora and Lily arrived in a flash out of the corner of his eye. The Queen of Gryffindor looked awfully dazed and confused, as if she'd only just woken. The rest of the party were scattered across the front lawns of Malfoy Manor, giving their final farewells to friends.

"Guess this is it, huh?" he said to Ron and Hermione, giving them firm hugs.

"Only for the time being," Ron said roughly. "I could always come along with you …"

"No no," Harry shook his head. "It's good for you to stay. Someone needs to hold the fort and watch our backs here in Britain, make sure we don't lose all the gains we've made. And I can't think of anyone I'd trust more to do that than Dolores Umbridge and her hunky young boy-toy!" The Golden Trio laughed in a strained fashion. "You need to rebuilt your ties with this version of your family, Ron, and the only place it can be done is here." He turned to wave at the Weasleys and Prewetts, who'd gathered to watch them leave, and were standing a polite distance away to give the departees some privacy. Molly waved back cheerfully, an arm firmly around Merope Gaunt's tiny waist.

"Yeah, I guess," Ron conceded. "We'll tie up all the loose ends here and then come find you."

"But just say the word, at any time, and we'll come charging in with the cavalry," Hermione added.

"Thanks. With any luck, we can get this whole mess sorted out by the end of the year, and be back in time for the start of next term."

"Sounds good!" None of them believed it was likely to be resolved that quickly. "See you round, you brummie git!"

"Bloody twonk!"

The three strolled over to the Marauders, who were saying farewell to James.

"Are you sure you can't come, mate?" Sirius asked for the thousandth time.

"Sorry, Padfoot, no can do. My parent's won't hear of it. You know that."

"So just ditch this joint without telling anyone! We can leave 'em a note to find once you're already in Magical Asia," Sirius urged.

"And break their hearts?" Prongs shook his head. "I can't, I just can't do that to them. They're elderly, and … well, I'm their only child. It could kill them."

Sirius sighed. "At least you won't be alone. I hear the McKinnons, Frank and Odd are in the same boat. You'll be able to keep the HA going strong with them backing you up; maybe grab a few new members if you can find some students of real quality, expand The Quibbler, they'll be plenty to keep you occupied. We'll be back before you notice it."

"Yeah."

The two boys shared a long, fierce hug, then grabbed Remus for a three-way embrace. Finally they stepped back, eyes suspiciously misty. They refused to look the other in the face.

Harry stepped forward. "I … uh … I guess I'll see you around, Prongs," he began hesitantly.

"Yeah …"

There was a long, awkward pause.

"Oh for Morgana's sake, just hug it out already!" demanded Padfoot, giving Harry a shove. With a yelp, Harry pitched forwards, and then he and James were clinging to each other.

"Take care of yourself," Prongs managed. "And look after the other two. Make sure Padfoot stays out of trouble, yeah?"

"Will do," Harry replied thickly.

They let go, and James quickly turned and strode away to find the nearest Floo. The other three Marauders sighed.

"Won't be the same without him," commented Remus morosely. "I wish our communication mirrors had a range of several thousand miles instead of several."

"Something for us to work on fixing," Sirius agreed.

Harry nodded sadly, he wished he'd been able to end things on a better note with this alternate-sorta-father. He suddenly found himself wrapped in a strong hug.

"Apolline, you're coming too? Don't give me that look; of course you are, I don't even know why I opened my mouth. Have you at least asked for your parents' permission?"

"I left zem a note," she dismissed his concerns, tightening her embrace. "Zey will receive it in a week or two."

"You know your Papa is going to chase you down to bring you back, just like he did last time, right?"

"I am quite sure 'e will try," she sniffed. "But eef 'e wishes to waste 'is time on such fruitless endeavours when zere are so many criminals just waiting for 'im to lock zem up, zat eez 'is own business."

Harry sighed. "Will you at least promise to send them regular letters letting them know you're alive and unharmed."

"Eef you wish eet, I shall do so."

"Thankyou, I appreciate it." He brought his arms up to give her a squeeze of thanks.

"You're doing WHAT?!" In the distance was the sound of one redhead alpha wolf pitching a hell of a fit.

"Oh Merlin."

"Pettigrew!"

"I hope Pandora actually explained things to Lily first," he groaned, "instead of just dragging her out here out of the blue."

Apolline giggled. "I zink you know exactly what Pandora 'as done! And I zink Lilly 'as just come properly awake. Good luck!"

"Hey, you can't leave me alone with …" he began to her retreating back. "Traitor …" Harry glanced at his magiscientist wife out of the corner of his eye. She was currently double-checking the contents of her mokeskin bag and chuckling ominously. Why couldn't he have married a nice normal girl, or even a girl that was only _slightly_ unhinged, like Bellatrix? No, he had to let his obsession with saving people steamroll his common sense. _'Curse you, conscience!_ ' he lamented to himself.

 _Hey, right back at you buster! snapped the Otter._

 _Prek! the Owl asserted._

With a deep breath, Harry turned to face his Destiny.

Lily 'Wrath of Merlin' Evans folded her arms and considered him. Mary MacDonald took up a flanking position, eyes flicking worriedly between the two. There was silence for a time.

"So you and the HA are going to go gallivanting across the globe jonesing for a fight with the most dangerous dark wizards in the world, are you?" Lily asked calmly.

"Yeah."

"Do I need to tell you how utterly, insanely irrational this course of action is, considering you're a bunch of schoolchildren?"

"No."

Another long pause.

Her eyes travelled to regard the Scotswoman. "I'm with ye either way," Mary said firmly. "Ye go, I go; ye stay, I stay."

Lily sighed. "Pandora's already packed my things. Just give me a minute to write a note to my parents and to Professor MacGonagall. Temporary withdrawal due to pressing family matters, etc."

"What?"

"Don't look so shocked, Peter," she said primly. "As if I would let you do something so monumentally reckless alone. I told you as much when we spoke to the Dementors, didn't I?"

"I … yes, you're right, of course."

"Of course I'm right. I'm always right."

"Er… you're right?"

"Glad to see it's finally penetrating that thick cranium of yours."

"Okaaay … Dobby! Kreacher! Are you set?"

"Dobby is all readiness, Noble Nabob Peter Pettigrew sir!"

Kreacher simply snarled.

Harry rubbed his temples. "Look Kreacher, I know you're not keen on going on this little trip, but think of it like this: the only members of the House of Black in the entire world are right here with you. And in a short while, all the Blacks in the world will be in Japan. Do you wish to be able to serve House Black or not? Because it's impossible to do it here in Britain. I could always leave you behind to look after Malfoy Manor and take Flipsy or Flopsy instead. Would you prefer that?" he asked shrewdly. "It would involve having to serve the largest group of halfbloods and blood-traitors this side of Trafalgar, but if that's what you want …"

"Kreacher will come with disgusting pustule of putridness and his mudblood slattern whore-wife!" the gnarled old elf said hastily.

"Excellent news – now it's time to be off. Don't forget to grab hold of the portkey; you too, Dobby."

They took hold of the long rope that was their international portkey to Mahounihon. Pandora had won the wand-paper-rock contest to speak the activation phrase that would send them on their journey. Looking around, Harry did a final headcount. Himself, Pandora, Lily, Apolline, Lily Luna, Remus, Sirius, Mary, Narcissa, Dobby and Kreacher. They had 11 party members, including the elves. Not quite as powerful a magical number as 12, or a multiple of seven, but still a good magical number nonetheless, arithmantically-speaking.

Harry felt bad about going to fight their war on someone else's soil; condemning a foreign people, their lands and children to suffering and death for reasons that weren't their own. Yet he couldn't suppress that small, shameful feeling of gladness, that at least the worst of it would be far far away from the people he knew and loved. That they, or at least their forebears, wouldn't have to suffer the way they did in his world. No Longbottoms crucio'd into insanity, no Potters assassinated leaving their son an unwanted orphan, no Amelia Bones being torn to shreds inside her own boudoir, no Dumbledore being shot down by his closest subordinate. The best they could do was to end this as quickly as possible, with as little devastation and loss as possible. Without engaging in insane risks and relying solely on hail-marys like last time around. In short, fight sneaky, fight dirty, fight like rats.

With a deep breath, Pandora gave a mighty bellow: "Onward to glory!"

"Goodbye dearies, do be careful! And don't forget to wear clean underwear at all times, in case a kappa steals your robes!" called Molly Weasley.

And the world spun away.

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	28. 25 The Battle of Kyouto

**Author's Note:**

This is both a HP reworking of "Back to the Future" themes, and a continuation/soft reboot/reworking of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" by Rorschach's Blot. Both are used with the permission of their original authors (except for "Back to the Future" of course). The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter or anything else. Full disclaimer in the Table of Contents.

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Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.

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Canon-compliant. HP&DH compliant (except the Epilogue). HP&CC compliant (except the conclusion). FB&WTFT compliant. Pottermore compliant (mostly). Some crossover with: Naruto, Ranma ½, Neon Genesis Evangelion and Avatar: The Last Airbender. Primarily Harry Potter though.

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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "Hedwig and the Goblet of Fire" by Meteoricshipyards.

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Question of the Week: Why oh why did Harry carry a Locket of Pure Evil around on his neck, when he knew full well that horcruxes could influence peoples' minds?

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 **Part 5: The Hogwarts Army vs ****Mahōnihon**

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 **Chapter 25 – The Battle of** **Kyōto**

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Circa regna tonat.

– Seneca and Thomas Wyatt

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The international portkey abruptly terminated, depositing Harry onto the ground with all his usual grace. He groaned, waiting for the dizziness to subside. He'd always hated portkeys, but to subject himself to over an hour of spinning around and around at what felt like lightspeed while his body was hurled thousands of miles across the globe, was beyond the pale. There had to be better ways to get places. Next time he travelled anywhere, he was taking a place. Or apparating under his own power, even if it took him over a hundred jumps! On the upside, if Pandora and Lily could re-jig a portkey to simply spin a person around in a single location indefinitely, they'd have the world's greatest interrogation/torture device.

Gradually planting his feet firmly onto the ground, and dragging himself upright, Harry observed that his companions were in a similar state, except for Apolline who looked (infuriatingly) fresh and perfect as a daisy. Pandora's hair was naturally wild, so didn't look too different from her usual.

The group was hailed by a large man holding a giant sign that read 'HA!'. Dragging themselves unevenly away from the portkey centre, they found themselves hustled into an 18th century-style hansom cab drawn by what looked like winged dragon-horses. A gaggle of peons loaded their luggage inexplicably into the animals' feed-bags, much to Dobby and Kreacher's indignation. A quick crack of a whip, and they were on their way. The inside of the cab was magically expanded to the size of a ballroom, and as magnificently appointed as one. The party was escorted to a large dining table positioned in the exact centre of the room, filled with berobed strangers. Throwing aside her cowl, the shortest member of the greeting party grabbed Harry and pulled him bodily onto her lap before he could requisition his own seat.

"Welcome to Mahōnihon, my husband," Xiomara Zabini purred huskily. "I hope your trip was not too strenuous."

"It was just peachy," he mumbled, still feeling awhirl. Impeccably dressed attendants placed goblets of wine before them. One of them clasped a cup and held it to his lips to drink, much to his mortification. _I feel like a toddler_ , he grumbled to himself, but the other attendants did likewise, so he grinned and bore it. _Seems that this 'august' company is too highfalutin to even handle their own cutlery._

"Then you will have no problem with the second and third legs of our journey," Xiomara replied, to the others' secret (and not-so-secret) dismay. Seeing their reactions, she laughed. "Mahōnihon is much larger than it seems on muggle maps. Japanese witches and wizards have spent generations upon generations constructing the largest and most powerful muggle-repelling wards on the planet. They have been at work since the Onin War convinced the magical population that it was too hazardous to affiliate with the muggle daimyō and warlords. Two whole centuries before the signing of the International Statute of Secrecy. Even now, a designated division of the Japanese Ministry of Magic is busily at work adding more layers. The continent of Japan is in reality closer in size to Australia than it is to the Philippines, as the muggles believe."

Zabini gave them all a minute to absorb this. "To that end, the family has made arrangements to ensure we do not flail around in the khamseen." She indicated the figure sitting next to her. "Allow me to introduce our guide, Hi-no-Kagutsuchi Naho-sama."

The stranger removed her outer robe, to reveal a girl who seemed around the same age as Apolline wearing rich golden robes. Dark hair tied back with red ribbons into two Manchu-style buns, except for two long bangs on either side of her angular face that fell down below her chin. Sharp back eyes. A small golden crown adorned her head, gold earrings on her lobes and several necklaces and gold bangles around her neck and wrists. Several golden rings on her fingers that bore more than a passing resemblance to the Lady Malfoy House ring. Although younger, she was slightly taller than Xiomara. All in all, she looked far too dainty to be trekking across rough terrain or fighting units of desperate dark wizards, as far as Harry was concerned.

The Japanese girl inclined her head gracefully. The English contingent made the politest greetings they could manage while still suffering from the nauseating after-effects of international portkey travel.

"The Zabini family have contracted with Hi-no-Kagutsuchi-sama's family for her services as an expert guide, translator, scout, spokesperson, ambassador, mentor, historian, and whatever else may be required for our group for the duration of our stay in Mahōnihon."

Harry wondered what exactly they were paying her family in exchange, but decided discretion was the better part of valour. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know the specifics of his new family's business practices.

"She has many connections in the regions we are likely to visit. At present, she is the sole student of Mahōtokoro."

"You're the only one?" queried Lily.

Naho nodded placidly. "Since the remainder of my class are now present at Hogowarutsu as we speak."

"Your school has only 11 students?" Lily demanded incredulously.

"Yes," the girl replied with a touch of pride. "Mahōtokoro only accepts the brightest, strongest and most talented of the elite families. I was extensively tested at age seven before I was deemed acceptable enough to be offered a position. Enrolment has been less than 20 at a time since the foundation of the school in ancient times by Sarāda herself."

"Sarāda?" asked Pandora.

"The goddess of magic and learning. Perhaps you are more familiar with her names Saraswati or Shakti?"

"What happens to the other magical children who don't make the cut?" Lily's voice held a trace of truculence.

Naho shrugged indifferently. "There are many lesser schools available for magical training. Commoners have the option of trade schools who specialise in specific fields, kimono-colouring, technomancy, and so forth. Else it falls to the parents to instruct their children in the family magics."

Lily was still dissatisfied, but a surreptitious hand from Apolline under the table grasped her knee tightly in warning, and she restrained herself.

"Excuse me, Hi-sama?" Harry said politely.

"Please," she said, "refer to me as Naho. We will likely be travelling far and spending much time together as colleagues. And as a great lord and three great ladies are amongst our party, it is not seemly for a mere child of a branch family to be referred to with such respect." The door to the cabin opened, and natural light flooded into the ballroom. "We have arrived. Let us make haste, we intend to be in Mahōtokoro before nightfall," Naho instructed.

The cab had reached the waterfront. As they debarked, Harry was caught in his new wife's surprisingly strong arms.

"And here I must leave you for now, my husband," she said regretfully.

"How come?"

"I must finish making arrangements here. And then I shall go to our ancestral lands in Italy and try to gain us further allies."

"It's not going to be too dangerous for you?" Harry asked. Even though he barely knew the girl, she'd kept her side of the bargain and proven herself a valuable friend. He didn't want to risk her injury or death.

Xiomara smiled warmly at his open concern for her wellbeing, and gave him another squeeze. "It will be hazardous at times," she admitted. "One does not enter the realms of beings of power without risk. But I will have my family at my side; we have been dealing with their like for centuries." She hesitated a moment, then leaned forward to plant a smouldering kiss on his lips. "Motivation," she whispered huskily, "to speed our return to each other. Arrivederci, dodi." And then the cab door was shut, and the vehicle was pulling away.

Apolline seized the arm of a dazed Harry and dragged him along after the others, who were already halfway up the slope. The French girl politely made no comment on his confused mess of emotions. The group followed the silent steps of their guide up to the crest of the steep hill. A series of gigantic rookeries were set in the side of the cliff, overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

"Our destination is the next island in this chain, Minami Iwo Jima," Naho announced.

"Not another portkey is it?" Harry groaned in dread, and was rewarded by the guide's light, tinkling laughter. Pointing, she indicated a gigantic nest filled with improbably large storm petrels. These sea birds were taller than him by a clear two feet.

"Better. This is the traditional method for students to reach Mahōtokoro – far more exciting than a train ride, no?" So saying, she leaped on the back of the nearest petrel, coaxing the creature into the air. Apolline laughed and transformed into her avian body, flying alongside.

"Now that's my kind of transportation!" declared Harry. Climbing aboard his own petrel, he asked it nicely to follow the other two. To his surprise, the giant bird actually seemed to understand him, for with an amused squawk; it bent its legs, spread its impressive wingspan and launched itself into space.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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"You're right," Harry hollered. "This is way more fun than sitting on a train like a pile of slugs!" His petrel rolled and dived once more. Then accelerated and shot past the group. "Wahoo!"

Apolline wheeled and twirled around him joyfully.

"Could you two stop doing that?" complained Lily. Mary was wedged tightly behind her, face buried in the back of her neck, arms gripping her waist with white intensity. "All those loop-de-loops are starting to give me a headache."

"If only we still had enough students to fill a Quidditch team," Naho said wistfully. Then she raised her voice. "Lord Pettigrew! Agree to join the Toyohashi Tengu and I will arrange for you to obtain Japanese citizenship!"

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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"Behold! Mahōtokoro no Gakuen no Kyūden!"

Before them in the distance, a volcanic island rose out of the oceanic haze. On the highest peak perched a gleam of white that sparkled and glistened in the fading sunlight. They approached, it resolved itself into an enormous pagoda made of brilliant white stone. The multiple eaves were accentuated with a rainbow of blue and white tiles.

Naho withdrew her cherry-wood wand and shot a fiery golden flare into the sky. A minute later and green sparks shot from the roof of the pagoda.

"It's so beautiful," declared Lily Luna, admiring the graceful architecture and glittering surfaces.

"The most beautiful magical school in the world!" responded Naho. "The entire building is made of the finest nephrite."

"What's that?"

"White jade. Extraced from the sacred mines of Ningshao in Mahōshina. That's the Middle Kingdom in mundane parlance."

"The Palace of Illusions," Narcissa breathed in wonder.

"What's that?" called Remus from his mount.

"A legend," Narcissa explained. "In the city of Indraprastha, in India, was said to be a palace made of clear crystal crafted by the Pandava monarchs. It was said to be so cunningly wrought that you couldn't tell the difference between the floors and a stream of water. A visiting king ended up falling into a fountain by accident because of it."

Remus snickered.

"The king was so incensed by the humiliation he started a war that ended up destroying the entire civilisation," she added dryly.

"Oh. Let's just hope nothing like that happens to us," he chuckled nervously.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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"Professor Kikyō-sama." Naho knelt respectfully before her Headmistress.

The rest of the group sat in seiza position seven paces behind, as the girl and her teacher spoke for a long time in low, even tones. All but Apolline and Narcissa shifted awkwardly from time to time, in considerable pain and discomfort but struggling not to show it.

Eventually the woman addressed them. "Naho has explained the situation to me. You are welcome here, visitors of Hogowarutsu."

The Headmistress wore long white robes and red hakama, long black hair tied back severely except for the two long bangs hanging down either side of her face, in what seemed to be the local aristocratic styling (to judge from Naho's similar cut). Odd, ethereal balls of light floated around her at a distance. Focusing on those, Harry felt his hairs stand on end. His time with Dirk and Master Dee had sensitised him to the flows of necromantic energy, and they surrounded this woman in spades. _She's a ghost_ , he realised. _But closer to Peeves than Nearly-Headless Nick; she can clearly interact directly with the physical world._ He and Dirk had had to 'bust' a number of these types of ghosts, although the one before him had an unmistakeable aura of power around her. Harry doubted that trying to vanquish this one would be in any way an easy task.

The Headmistress seemed aware of his scrutiny, and inclined her head slightly to him to acknowledge his awareness.

"That is most generous of you, ma'am," Lily replied formally. "So you'll aid us?"

"So I'll aid you," the Headmistress agreed. "The British and Japanese governments (magical and mundane alike) have been formal allies ever since Grindelwald's forces were crushed in the 1940's. Although contacts between the two governments have been patchy at times, and our respective Ministers have had little to say to each other over the past 30 years, nothing has disturbed the strength of this bond. The arrival of hordes of Europeans to interfere with a purely internal Japanese conflict, with an intent to exploit that conflict to export war back to Europe, has the potential to destabilise both countries and harm our interests. It is to mutual advantage to assist you to bring this to a swift conclusion."

"You mentioned an internal conflict, Professor," Lily said respectfully. "Could you please elaborate?"

"I will leave it to Naho to explain the history, given her personal connection. While I contact the key members of our government, you will all undertake a crash course in Japanese magic, so you will at least have some inkling of the forces you will be facing and, hopefully, not end up as gaijin fertiliser for the sunflowers the moment you enter the wild regions." And with that ominous pronouncement, she rose silently and fluidly to her feet. Naho, Apolline and Narcissa did likewise. The remainder struggled up awkwardly, trying to get the blood moving once again through their atrophied limbs. "I will leave you in the capable hands of Professor Maniaku. He is a wandering souhei who kindly agreed to stay and impart some of his vast knowledge of the magical Asia to the students of Mahōtokoro. You will treat him with the appropriate respect."

Professor Maniaku turned out to be a tall, jovial stick of a man with a shock of black hair in a short ponytail, deep blue robes and a thin bronze staff. He wore as much jewellery in his ears, neck and arms as Naho. "Greetings, my new students. How wonderful to see the school so full of life again!" And with that preamble out of the way, he was off. Before anyone could get a word in edgewise, he declared, "Mahōnihon can mean two things. The more common meaning refers to those magical districts attached to, but hidden from, major mundane settlements. These districts operate like your Diagon and Hogsmeade. They are under the direct jurisdiction of the Japanese Ministry of Magic. Then you have shadow Mahōnihon, the so-called 'wild regions', which are under the jurisdiction of nobody but the local daimyō, who answer only to the Emperor and Magical Council."

 _And guess where we're headed! the Grim joked. As if there were any doubt!_

"There are many varieties of Japanese magic," the Professor lectured. "However, given the time constraints we are under, I will focus on those types utilised by the clans you are likely to face in the wild regions. These clans are ruled by, and primarily composed of, persons known as _ninja_ , to use the Chinese pronunciation, or _shinobi no mono_ , to use the Japanese. Both terms indicate an adept of stealth. They bear no resemblance to the popular muggle conceptions that these names conjure up, so forget whatever you may have heard on the subject."

"Damn." Harry and Sirius sagged in disappointment.

"The clans rely on magical traditions inherited from India and China. These traditions centre around the manipulation of magic, which is typically referred to by its Sanskrit name, _chakra_ , through physical and mental gestures instead of via wands."

"What!?" Lily Luna blurted. "You're telling us they do all their magic wandlessly!?"

"Indeed yes, Miss Potter. Outside of Mahōtokoro alumni, wandlore is nigh-nonexistent in Mahōnihon and Mahōshina. Talented practitioners of wandless magics may even reach levels equivalent to the wand-users in Europe and the Americas."

The foreign students broke out into a flurry of energetic (and some disbelieving) whispers.

"Most of these techniques, or _jutsus_ , were imported and taught by the Buddhist monks who immigrated from India," Professor Maniaku continued. "Consequently, they have retained a lot of Indian characteristics. They were then combined with Chinese martial arts practices to influence natural forces, to 'bend' fire, earth, air, water, ice, lightning, and so forth. Over time, these skills were expanded to manipulate wide varieties and specialities of phenomena. Instead of using wands, adepts are encouraged to stimulate and manipulate their magic – their chakra – by means of rigorous combat training. Such training expands one's magical channels, and eases the flow of energy from a person's core to influence the external world. Ergo, we must start with a detailed examination of the Indian and Chinese systems of anatomy."

"Aha!" Harry crowed. "I knew it! I _told_ you learning anatomy would be useful, Lils! And you just laughed and accused me of trying to get into your robes!"

"Shut up, you chattering marmoset!" Lily hissed, jabbing him with her quill that was already in her hand.

"Er, how many of these 'talented practitioners' are there, and how strong are they exactly?" inquired Remus, raising his hand hesitantly.

"A fine question, Mr Lupin. Luckily for my voice, there is a standardised scale of skill that is used across the wild regions. Most students begin their physical training at age four. The first level of rank is known as _genin_ , whose knowledge is roughly equivalent to your OWLs. The second level is known as _chūnin_ , which is roughly equivalent to your NEWTs, and the final level is _jōnin_ , similar to your Mastery levels. Genin level proficiency is typically attained at age 12 for a moderately skilled adept. Chūnin and jōnin levels are not guaranteed, and will depend on the quality of the individual."

Naho interjected, "And of the _sanin_ and S-class nin, Professor?"

"Something far beyond Mastery-level," the Professor said gravely. "Think of the likes of Albus Dumbledore or Gellert Grindelwald or Voldemort."

Harry swallowed nervously. _Sweet Morgana's sweaty sandals!_ He raised his hand. "There, uh, there aren't a lot these sanin or S-class whatchamacallits around, are there?"

"No, not many, Mr Pettigrew. At present, there is a higher concentration than usual, historically speaking. But even so, no more than a dozen or two alive right now."

"Merlin's mizzen-mast, _a dozen or two_!? This whole thing's going to be a lot tougher than I thought!" Sirius summed up everyone's thoughts.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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 _DARK LORD GRINDELWALD ALIVE!_

 _Former Dark Lord Believed Dead Actually Still Alive! Grindelwald Captures Squib Shade of MRHBDL and Flees to Magical Asia With Purloined Death Eaters and Sympathisers! Seeks to Overthrow Barbarian Lands!_

 _By Rita Skeeter and Ahmed Adoudi_

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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"The Magical Council?"

"Yes," Headmistress Kikyō nodded. "It is a tremendous honour to be invited to attend."

"Are we going to use the petrels again, ma'am?" Harry asked excitedly. Mary and Narcissa groaned.

She smiled at his enthusiasm. "That is the tradition for student transport. We have much faster methods if necessary, for example to obtain emergency medical aid in the event that someone is seriously injured. However it is a secret of the school, so I must insist that you be blindfolded."

A blind contingent of English and French students was soon being led in a chain of hands to a mysterious location. After climbing their eighth staircase, they reached a large room, wherein Harry could feel the soft breeze from the Pacific. Moved to the centre, the group stood in a circle holding hands.

"Uh, when is this thing going to happen?" ventured Sirius.

"We are already here," chuckled Professor Kikyō. "You may remove your blindfolds."

Looking around in astonishment, they discovered that they were indeed somewhere else. The reception of a hospital by the looks of it. Harry was mighty impressed by a system of transport that was instantaneous, silent and most importantly of all, did not include being spun around in circles several thousand times! _Our party definitely needs one. I'd buy that for a dollar!_

"Welcome to one of the major magical hospitals of Japan, Onamuchi-no-mikoto to Sukunahikona-no-mikoto no Byouin," the Headmistress proclaimed. "It adjoins Kyōto Palace, and there are several tunnels that connect, so that members of the Magical Council and their families may have swift access to medical facilities. Since many of the students of Mahōtokoro are related to members of the Council, having a permanent connection between here and the school also allows more easily for family visits."

Sirius gasped in dismay. "And I thought the Defence Prof's name was bad! How in Merlin's name is anyone supposed to remember _that_ mouthful!?"

Naho laughed at his horrified expression. "Some call it 'Omi to Sumi' for short. At least, those with the memory span of a flobberworm."

"'Miso soup and charcoal'?" Apolline queried, nose scrunching cutely. "Such an odd concatenation for a place of healing."

"I believe the term originates from a time when these things were used as common remedies," Naho answered as they were ushered through a corridor and a set of large, ornate doors. "Miso is considered like chicken soup is in Europe; and it was common to use charcoal for poultices, or in the days before bezoars were discovered, consumed to combat the effects of poisons."

"Muggle hospitals still use activated charcoal for the same purposes," Mary offered.

Their destination was a large room with wall-to-wall wardrobe cabinets as far as the eye could see. Silent attendants rushed forward and began assiduously stripping them of their clothes and re-dressing them in formal kimono. Lily and Mary squawked at the invasion of personal space. Narcissa and Apolline laughed merrily as the two muggleborn fled to the opposite side of the room where their bodies would be hidden from the others by the furniture and full-length mirrors. Naho tucked away a smile and focused on ensuring that Lord and Lady Malfoy and herself were dressed to denote their proper rank.

"There," Naho said, looking Harry over in satisfaction. Now you are attired as a proper daimyō should be."

"Are you sure it's supposed to look like this?" Harry queried hesitantly. While comfortable, the bright red, green and blue colouring was rather … garish, to his mind. And all the golden cords and threads seemed rather narcissistic. It reminded him a bit too much of the styles of Albus Dumbledore or Aleister Dee.

A small frown marred the girl's smooth forehead. "Of course. Is something wrong?"

"Uh, I'm just worried about presenting myself as one of these daimyō people," Harry lied. "Isn't it awfully presumptuous for some foreigner to parade around as a great lord?"

"You _are_ a great lord," Naho said firmly. "One of the greatest in magical Britain. The Magical Council will recognise that."

"Then perhaps I should appear in traditional English lordly robes," Harry said hopefully. Naho merely tightened the chin-strap of his tate-eboshi in response. Harry sighed.

"Where's the Prof gone?" asked Remus, half-wrestling with his insistent attendant to slip on a haori while trying to step into a pair of slippers.

"To make arrangements for us to enter and petition the Council. One does not simply walk into Kyōto Palace and demand an audience with the Shōwa Emperor," Professor Kikyō said sternly, silently appearing in the middle of the room at that very moment. Gathering the students around her, she gave a brief explanation of what they were to expect and how to conduct themselves in the proper etiquette of the Court.

"The Emperor is the direct descendant of Amaterasu-ōmikami, the sun-goddess who created the continent of Japan. He is the leader of the Japanese Ministry of Magic, and the official head of state of the muggle government, though he has little actual power on that side. The magical daimyō in the wild regions all answer to him; the mundane daimyō did so as well, until they were abolished by the muggle Meiji Imperialist government in the 1870's. The Magic Council act as his advisors, and function somewhat similarly to your Wizengamot. The Japanese Minister of Magic is answerable to both the Council and the Emperor."

She described the formal modes of address to use, to only speak when spoken to, the order of arrival and departure, and the proper kowtowing customs. "Leave your wands here. Come, the Council awaits us."

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"Well," the Headmistress of Mahōtokoro said in a dazed tone. "That was certainly … unusual."

"Unusual? How in the name of Orochi's eight heads did the Emperor know who you were?!" Naho demanded, her face twisted in a petulant pout.

"Don't let it worry you. It's me, I'm extremely famous," Harry offered flippantly.

"For _what_? What could you possibly have done to have brought yourself so prominently to the Emperor's notice? You've never been to Nihon before have you?" the tall girl persisted.

That stumped him. He wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived in this time and place. And he couldn't think of anything he'd done in Britain in either timeline that these people would care about. "Ahhh no idea. And no, I've never been to Japan before." He looked for help to the others, who were scattered around one of the many imperial sitting-rooms, but met only blank stares.

"It must have been _something_ – the Emperor does not just award honorary daimyō rank and then offer the hand of his granddaughter, the only daughter of the Crown Prince, to a complete stranger! Even more so a gaijin who has been in Nihon for no more than a few days!" Naho paced back and forth with an agitation that the heretofore perfectly-composed girl had never demonstrated.

"And why not?" demanded Lily Luna, rising to his defence. "Peter's pretty awesome all around!"

He smiled weakly. "Thanks Elle." Then trying desperately to change the subject said, "In any case, I wasn't the only one honoured – I think congratulations are in order to Naho, for being invested as the Emperor's formal representative to the wild regions. And we all received formal authorisation as resident foreigners. How about a cup of sake to cheers our success?"

"I don't think you understand," Kikyō shook her head in consternation, not to be deterred. "This is absolutely unprecedented. For the Emperor to invest you as a daimyō is unusual in the extreme, but explainable since you are already a lord of similar rank in your own country. But for him to offer you Nori-no-miya Sayako Naishinnō as a bride … one would think that the Shōwa Emperor owed you a Life Debt or some such similar obligation! That is the only reason I can think of, unless he wishes to establish a formal blood-alliance with your House."

"No no no no," Harry shook his head emphatically. While the pictures he'd been shown of the little seven-year-old girl were certainly adorable, he wanted nothing to do with child brides and was more than done with political marriages! "No more brides, no more arranged marriages! I have more than enough on my plate dealing with the current crop I'm saddled with – er, I mean, I need to spend all my time and energy seeing to the happiness of the wonderful wives I have," he hastily amended. "I don't want anyone else distracting me from that."

"Good," said Pandora in satisfaction. "Otherwise, one might think you did _not_ desire (for some inexplicable and no doubt imbecilic reason) to be united with the brightest and most beautiful witches of the age, who include the Greatest Genius of the Era …"

"Not at all! If I had to be strong-armed into marriage, or accidentally wed through bizarre, obscure magics, with _any_ witches, I'm very glad it was with you four," Harry said sincerely.

Lily raised a brow at that, Mary and Lily Luna were struggling to restrain another bout of giggling, but at least Pandora and Apolline seemed satisfied with the heartfelt pronouncement, and the obvious earnestness in which it was delivered.

"Better you than me, Wormy," Remus shook his head.

"Speak for yourself, Moony, some of us are more than capable – ouch!" Sirius flinched away from his betrothed's wandless stinging hex. "Ehehe you know I was only kidding right, babe – ow!" he yipped. He shifted into his Grim form, and the others laughed as the black dog was chased around the room by an irritated Narcissa Black. It was a welcome break in the tension in the room.

But the latest episode of hijinks in the Black family melodrama was rudely interrupted by the sound of an enormous explosion. The Headmistress immediately vanished from the room. The group rushed over to the windows, to observe large plumes of threatening black smoke arising from palace complex.

Professor Kikyō reappeared. "The walls have been breached! Kyōto Palace is under attack!"

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The stone walls and layers of magical wards surrounding them were torn asunder. Hordes of pale white, human-like creatures swarmed into the palace complex, ripping through stone and wood as if they were rice paper. The guards were quickly overwhelmed.

"Our foes are mighty indeed to have been able to breach imperial wards of such power!" stated Naho grimly, staring out the window at the carnage.

"I will go find the Emperor," Professor Kikyō announced. "Arm yourselves – we must protect the Magical Council!" She disappeared once more.

"We need our wands!" Narcissa demanded. Padfoot's animagus-enhanced sense of direction led the group back to the changing rooms where their wands and other luggage was stored.

Seizing his 27 wands, Harry hurriedly began loading them into every holster he could find and strapping them onto himself. He paused, at a thought. Turning to Apolline, he proffered the five wands with her Veela-hair core. "Take these, please. In case you need a backup spare or five."

Apolline regarded him a moment. "Keep them, mon coeur. I would feel 'appier knowing zat my magic is around you, protecting you from 'arm."

"Half and half then," Harry urged. She reluctantly conceded, and he passed her five of the wands. It was unfortunate that nobody else was compatible with any of his other ones. Then again, they all still had their second-hand spares. And hopefully, with everyone backing each other up, they wouldn't need more.

Half of the group were still fitting their dragonhide vests onto their torsos. Securing his, Harry announced, "I'm going to go scout! Get to the Magical Council and find somewhere to hunker down!" Before anyone could object, he'd transformed into his rat-body and scampered out the door. Racing across the corridor, he became aware of another creature following. Looking up, he saw the large black Grim trotting along beside him. Sharing a brief look of acknowledgement, the two animagi made their way out into the courtyard, and then beyond, into the outer palace complex. The rich smells of burning wood assaulted them. Everywhere was confusion as soldiers, officials and bureaucrats raced around wildly, trying to save themselves. Harry's rodent-senses were going wild. The air was filled with necromantic energies. Transfiguring back into a human, Harry took a moment to scrutinise the invaders.

Skin a pale, sickly white, metallic green hair and yellow eyes, strange zigzag patterns running over their torsos and legs, weird spikes poking out of their shoulders and chests. These creatures were not fully alive, that became immediately evident once he focused his necromantic senses onto them. They were obviously some weird local variant of zombies or Inferii. A cold smile graced Harry's face when he realised the situation. It was foolish to take on even a moderately skilled practitioner of necromancy with a bunch of Inferii, no matter how numerous they may be. It was sheer folly to do it with one of his power and skill level. Whipping his wand around in complex patterns, he cast soul-shredding hexes left and right, grinning in grim satisfaction as dozens of the white creatures screamed and dissolved into indeterminate masses of ectoplasm and flesh with every slash of his wand. Ignoring Padfoot's disbelieving shouts, he moved quickly forward, hexing his way through the attackers, as they shrieked and fell back.

"Fire!" he yelled to Sirius. "Inferii are weak against fire! Remember our HA training!" His fellow Marauder nodded tightly and soon the flashes and heat of his _Incendios_ could be felt at the edges of Harry's consciousness.

Some of the invaders carried weapons, so the two were soon forced to dodge spear and katana more and more often as the grunts fell back and a more heavily armed and seemingly more trained and intelligent contingent began to focus on them. Sirius conjured a stone wall, and they dived behind it. The wall shuddered as it absorbed the blows of arrows and spears.

"Enough of this shite!" Harry growled. Pulling out a secondary wand he attempted to do something he was only rarely able to achieve at the Auror Academy. Duel wielding wands was difficult at the best of times, since one had to split their concentration and intent through two magical interfaces simultaneously. However, it was a lot easier to do when you were only casting a single spell with them both. Leaning back, he breathed deeply, called upon the rat inside, and using its terror and panic to fuel his magic he cast.

" _Fiendfyre!_ "

A flaming stag, rat, Grim, Veela-bird, werewolf, otter, lynx, petrel and serpent sprang forth from his wands. They immediately turned on him, hungrily seeking to consume their summoner. With a monumental force of will, Harry's magic drove them off, towards their attackers. Twisting, writhing and resisting his control, the fiery creatures reluctantly turned away from him and swept like a tidal wave of red and gold into the shrieking zombies. Cowering from the intense heat, Sirus huddled against the stone wall and marvelled to himself at the force of Pettigrew's spell. After several minutes, the heat evaporated and his friend collapsed down beside him, panting and sweating huge drops.

"You okay, Wormtail?" he rasped, voice choking.

"Yeah," Harry gasped, shivering. "But Merlin, that spell takes a lot out of you!"

"Come on," Padfoot stood and propped his pooped companion up against his broad shoulder. "By the sounds of things there's a bunch of them over on the other side of the palace."

By the time they reached the next scene of action, stepping over acres of charred and twisted corpses as they went, Harry had more or less recovered his strength. Knowing that he didn't have it in him to cast fiendfyre curses all day, he crouched behind a ruined building and looked around for any sort of advantage. Fortunately for him, an advantage presented itself of its own will. The war cries of the white hordes laying siege to the main gate of the central palace suddenly turned to panic and dismay as a giant serpent, in full Groucho Marx facewear, appeared as if from nowhere and laid into their ranks with gusto. Petrifying dozens with its gaze. Hurling others into the air with flicks of its enormous tail. Happily seizing with its great jaws and poison fangs any who got within range of its strike, gobbling them up. Harry quickly closed his eyes and clapped a hand over Padfoot's.

The rat animagus cast a _Sonorus_ on his throat. _§Sssallie!§_ he called out, magically enhanced voice ringing out over the chaos of battle. _§Are you all right?§_

 _§Yessss master,§_ she purred blissfully. _§Their puny sssticksss are no match for my hide. And thessse munchiesss are ever ssso crunchy and juicy!§_

 _§Uh, right. Good work! Feel free to eat or petrify asss many of the white thingsss asss you wish. It'sss been too long sssince you've had a real feassst, hasssn't it?§_

 _§Farrrrr too long,§_ she hissed in satisfaction. _§I will sleep for monthsss after thisss day!§_

 _§We must go find the ressst of the ssscum who invade thisss place,§_ Harry declared. _§The ruler of thessse landsss isss in danger! I will come and find you when we are done!§_

 _§Asss you wisssh. I shall likely be ssslumbering by the lake.§_

"Come on, Padfoot, we're not needed here! Onto the next battlefield!" Trying not to look at the gigantic leviathan or listen to the pitiful cries and sounds of rending flesh, the two made their way to whatever trouble may await them.

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Fighting Inferii inside the palace, room by room and corridor by corridor was a vastly different prospect than facing them outside in wide open spaces. Harry couldn't use fiendfyre and Sirius couldn't use _Incendio_ for fear of burning the entire wooden palace to the ground, incinerating everyone inside. Instead they had to make do with cutting, slicing and unspeakable necromantic hexes to bludgeon their way through the building to the inner sanctum, hoping to find their friends and the Magical Council. Their wishes were partially answered as they broke through a cluster of the creatures and into the room to which they were laying siege. Levitating the broken wooden pillars and railings out of the way, they discovered Lily Luna, Narcissa and Naho barricaded inside. With squeals of joy, the two former hurled themselves into Harry and Sirius' arms respectively.

"I'm so glad you're here," Lily Luna mumbled, burying her face into Harry's shoulder as she squeezed the life out of him. He patted her back awkwardly.

"There there," he comforted as well as he was able for someone of such limited experience. "What happened to the others? And where are the Magical Council?"

She scrunched her nose. "Same place, I think. The guards came to collect us all right after you two left the changing room. Took everyone down to some reinforced bunker." Lily Luna grinned viciously. "Apolline unleashed her Veela-fire; she was slinging it all over the place. Cut through those vile, foul things like a hot knife through a soft camembert!"

"Then why the bloody hell are you three up here?" asked Sirius, as gently as he could.

"Ceiling collapsed," Naho informed them laconically, guarding the entranceway.

"The three of us were in the rear, got blocked off from the rest," Lily Luna agreed. "The … the guards who were with us didn't make it."

Harry held her tightly. "Padfoot, can you call them on the Mirrors?"

Sirius nodded and fished out his communication mirror. The call was quickly answered and he began chattering rapidly to whoever was on the other end.

Looking around, Harry observed that they had arrived in a large stately ballroom that looked like it had been set up for some sort of seminar series. Naho and Narcissa were levitating as much furniture as would fit against the doors, and conjuring stone blocks to re-barricade them. _So many conjurations had to be exhausting._ Not a moment too soon, as they could hear their foes outside massing for another assault. The doors began to shudder under the multiple impacts.

"The others are fine!" Padfoot called. "The guards got Remus, Lily, Mary, Pandora, Apolline, and the Magical Council to some underground passage and down into some nuclear bunker or something. Including us, that's everyone accounted for except Headmistress Kikyō and the Emperor and Empress!"

Harry sighed in relief. "Thank Merlin. Though if these things get the Emperor, we could all be in for a whole lot of grief."

There was a sudden pop, and two sixthies and a fifthie appeared next to them.

"Hiya," Al waved cheerily.

The whole room began to shiver, and an entire wall began to melt away. Cursing to themselves, Harry, Sirius, Narcissa, the elder Lily Luna and Naho began hurling whatever hexes and jinxes they could think of to try to halt the next oncoming tide of malice. The three travellers looked around frantically, startled by the cacophony of ripping, exploded and melting.

"Peter! What in the name Merlin's left nipple-piercing is going on?!" screamed young Lily Luna.

"Now is not a good time!" Harry hollered. "We're under attack! Get yourselves somewhere safe – or, better yet, to a safer timeline!"

The three travellers scattered in terror as the wall gave out and 30 or 40 Inferii smashed into the ballroom and made for the humans.

"They're comin' right for us!" shouted Scorpius.

"Go, kids!" Harry commanded. "The five of us will cover your retreat!"

"If I may," smirked Narcissa, gesturing with her wand.

"Be my guest," Harry agreed in a gentlemanly fashion.

Every table, chair, stool and bookcase in the ballroom came to life and charged the undead horde. Howling Inferii fell under the cavalcade of biting, gnawing and jumping wooden artefacts. A pair of heavy walnut cabinets seemed to take great delight in hurling themselves at the intact walls, crushing whatever unfortunate creatures got caught in the middle.

"Someone's been working on their Transfiguration and Animation," Harry said appreciatively to the two Blacks.

"What can I say, we're Blacks," preened Sirius.

"Indeed. And Blacks do not typically prefer to stand around gabbing all day while in mortal peril," Narcissa sniffed loftily, flicking a speck of dust off her cloak with casual insouciance.

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"Where's Sirius and Narcissa?" Harry demanded, the next time the group had a moment to rest and recover (and he'd finally had another chance to do a headcount).

"Got separated back in the second Hall of Mirrors," panted Lily Luna. "I think they went after the other me, Al and Scorpius. I remember something from a few years ago, how they helped me and the others get out of the palace and to a hiding place beyond the walls."

"So the three of you made it?" Harry asked intensely. "Nobody hurt? You don't remember any others arriving to help you get out? Or protecting your backs?"

She shook her head emphatically. "No, it was just Sirius and Narcissa. Then they guarded us from the few that were wandering around the walls. Then when everything got quiet they went back to help you guys. That's when The Device's timer ran out. We were unharmed."

"Then they will be fine," said Naho firmly. "Else Miss Potter would not be here now, correct? Using a time device cannot change the course of the timestream, if I recall my lessons accurately."

"You do," Harry replied, remembering Pandora's lecture back at her lab. Merlin, it seemed like years ago now.

"Sirius and Narcissa will live as well," Lily Luna stated confidently. "I have memories of their wedding."

"Wedding?" Harry said incredulously. Then started to laugh, he just couldn't help it. "And after all the moaning and threatening he did after I betrothed them! That's score one for engaging people behind their backs!"

Their confabulation was interrupted by the tell-tale sounds of mayhem and madness on the other side of the door.

"Here they come again," Naho declared, brandishing her cherry-wood wand.

True to form, the creatures swelled and made another charge. Harry let the fear run wild and the rat free, barely holding on to any sense of self as he leapt forward half crouched over. Multitudes of Inferii were finding out firsthand how a cornered rat fights. He tore through their ranks with wand and fist and teeth, but no matter how hard he fought, he and the rest of the group was hard-pressed by the sheer number of their opponents. For every one that was cut down, another two appeared to take their place. Our plucky heroes were in danger of being overrun, until help arrived from a most unexpected source.

"Flee before me, vile fiends! None can stand before my wand! Bwahahahahahaha!"

"Pandora?" Harry called. "Is that your maniacal laughter I can hear?"

The Inferii fell back in panic at an onslaught of barely-legal necromantic spellfire from their rear, shrieking as their souls were torn asunder. Trapped like rats between attackers in front and behind, the unit of creatures fell swiftly.

"Are you all right?" inquired their savour. To Harry's surprise, it was not his favourite blonde-haired mad scientist, but a tall, broad-shouldered youth of about the same age as the current Lily Luna. Sharp, handsome features; curly black hair, laughing eyes, nondescript wizarding robe. He casually kicked the quivering remains of his victims out of his path as he strolled over to the place of their last stand.

"Who the deuce are you … hang on," the face and bearing felt awfully familiar. A face from some long-ago memories, swirling around in Dumbledore's pensieve one dark and stormy night. "Tom Marvolo Riddle?" Harry asked in astonishment. His wand automatically swept upwards to cover this new threat.

"Got it in one, Pops! Except it's Tom Marvolo Malfoy," the man corrected. "Who else would it be, the Candy Man?" He grinned impishly (an extremely weird and dissonance-inducing sight on the face of a young Voldemort). "Hey, easy there," he raised his hands in surrender. "I'm on your side, remember?"

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Prove it, stranger."

"I just saved your lives from those vile things, whatever they are."

"Point," Harry conceded reluctantly.

"And I'm going to keep helping you until all the trash has been taken out."

"You are?" Harry said dumbly, utterly befuddled at this unexpected turn of events.

"Well duh," the man said sarcastically. "You are my Da after all."

 _Didn't Tom Riddle kill his father? And rather gleefully at that?_ His ever-helpful brain pointed out. Harry was not stupid enough to voice such a thought of course. He didn't want to be giving this 'Tom' in front of him any ideas. But that trail of thought was quickly derailed by him noticing a certain Device hanging around the man's neck.

"You have The Device?" Harry demanded, pointing with his wand. He knew he was being rude, but the situation was moving too rapidly for politeness.

"Duh," Tom said again. "How else did I get here?

"No, I meant where did you get it?" Were all people from the past or future so maddening to talk to?

"Aunt Lily Luna acquired it for me as a graduation present."

"And by 'acquired' you mean …"

"I mean she nicked it from the Ministry. Even knew where in the Minister's Office they were hiding it," he said in admiration.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course she did." He glowered at Lily Luna who grinned back unrepentantly. "You know you're a terrible influence."

"Eh don't be so hard on her, Pops," Tom defended his beloved aunt. "Those swots in the Unspeakables wouldn't know what to do with it anyway. Think about it: they invent two incredible, mind-defying, world-changing devices, the greatest discovery since time turners themselves. And what do they do with them? Lock them away in a cabinet and never touch them again!" He snorted. "Researchers! Hah! And those Unspeakables call themselves magiscientists! Research without practical application is not True Science!"

Harry sighed, heart sinking. There was no doubt this man had been raised in the company of Pandora Lovegood and Lily Luna Potter.

Lily Luna was eyeing Tom speculatively the entire time. "Dyu think you and your aunt could get me the second Device?" she asked hopefully. "Since the Ministry isn't doing anything with it and all …?"

"Don't even think about it," Harry growled menacingly. Only to be completely ignored.

"I'll see what can be done; least I can do for one of my favourite aunts!"

"Such a good nephew," the redhead purred.

"You mentioned graduation," Naho interjected. "What did you attain?"

"Nothing much: masteries in Potions, Charms, Transfiguration and Necromancy."

"Impressive," Naho commented. "I am the highest-scoring student of Mahōtokoro" she gestured to her golden school robes, "and that is a feat I would struggle to achieve. How old are you?"

"Just turned 20."

"You obtained four masteries by the time you were 20!?" Harry yelled in disbelief.

"Well, yeah," the man shrugged nonchalantly. "I did have Aunt Hermione, Aunt Pandora and Aunt Lily as role-models and tutors, after all."

"And I see you've picked up some Japanese language ear and tongue studs," observed Naho.

"Naturally," he favoured the girl with a roguish smirk. "One can't go on an excellent adventure or bogus journey in past-Japan without bothering to learn themselves the language."

"Those are exactly my sentimonies," Harry replied, "but as fun as this little reunion has been, we have a few pressing –"

However the rest of the discussion would have to be tabled, as the oncoming onrush of onlooking zombies precipitated a rapid redeployment of their forces. The increasing magical and physical exhaustion of the group quickly became evident as they were forced to fall back farther and farther along the corridor. Even Tom's powerful curses didn't slow their attackers as much; the wily beings had started to use the flayed and severed body parts of their fallen comrades as humanish shields, blunting the effects of necromantic magics. They also began to rely on ranged attacks more, hurling pieces of furniture, lumps of stone, wooden beams and even pieces of the dead at their foes from a distance. The team was forced to use a lot of magic shielding, banishing and transfiguration to deflect the hail of debris. But this was wearing down their remaining reserves of energy.

"Final room!" announced Lily Luna as they reached the end of the corridor. " _Alohomora!_ " She poked her head inside and looked around. "No other doors or windows. End of the line!"

A hasty series of soul-imprisonment jinxes from Harry and Tom and the front wave of attackers were frozen, allowing the group to pile into the small-sized bedroom. It contained nothing but a bed, a bedside table and a wardrobe.

"Wanna see a neat trick?" asked Tom, grinning ferociously. He leaned out of the doorway, wandpoint first. "Remember the Alamo!" he shouted. He muttered a few incantations under his breath, and suddenly the entire corridor twisted and twirled like a kaleidoscope, before the ceiling and walls simultaneously squished inwards, crushing the inhabitants like ants. The room rocked and shuddered at the impact of part of the palace's structure being warped so far out of its original design.

"That should hold them for a while," he said with satisfaction. "I'd like to see those walking undead bastards plow through 200 metres of rubble at least!"

They took a minute or two to lie down on the bed and recover their strength, while Tom sealed the door with every locking and shielding charm he knew, and then barricaded it with whatever furniture was available.

"Alright," said Harry grimly. "As Elle said, this is the end of the line. We've got our backs to the wall. Our loved ones are safe and sound underground, and I hope to Merlin that all the other innocents have managed to get out of this place in one piece. So when it comes down to it, if those bastards break through, half of us will hit them with every fire spell you've got: _Incendio, Incendus Ventus, Fiendfyre, Flagro Flagello, Flammasectum_ , and whatever else. While the other half reducto's their way through one of the walls. Whichever one seems most likely to adjoin to somewhere we can escape from. Understood?"

The others nodded. Naho opened her mouth to say something when they heard an odd noise.

"Was that a squeak? Or a chirp?" Lily Luna inquired of the room.

"It came from the wardrobe," Tom said grimly, "as soon as I started levitating it." He cast a _Hominem Revelio_. "There are three persons hiding in here. _Allohomora!_ " Backing away, he caused the doors to open, and the three persons to tumble out like an ungainly bundle of potatoes.

Naho's eyes widened in shock. "Your Highnesses!" She hurried forward to help up the Japanese monarch Shōwa Emperor Hirohito, his wife and their seven-year old granddaughter Nori-no-miya Sayako Naishinnō. The trio seemed shaken but unharmed. They nodded their thanks to Naho, but were too overwhelmed to speak. The little girl hid behind her grandmother shyly.

"Welcome to the party, Your Worshipfulnesses. Unfortunately this particular party are trapped like rats!" announced Tom. He glanced at Harry, "Sorry, Pops."

But Harry was too busy thinking to notice. _Godric's gallstones, we're in a tight spot now. Having the Royal Family stuck here with us changes things a lot. We can't afford to start a conflagration or blow the building's supports out with them right next to us. Think, you Squib-for-brains! There's nowhere to run to! What would my future self do in this situation? Wait, that's it!_

"Sorry for the rudeness, Your Highnesses!" he said, turning back to the monarch, his wife and granddaughter, who had huddled onto one of the couches. "But we're going to have to think four-dimensionally here!" Reaching into one of his mokeskin pouches, he called out, "Time turner!" One of the devices Hermione had filched from the Ministry popped into his hand.

Tom grinned. "Brilliant! Why didn't I think of that?"

"Everyone, grab hold tight!" Harry ordered, stepping over to the royal threesome and throwing the turner's golden chain over their necks and his own. "My apologies in advance for my presumptuousness, Your Majesties." Tom, Lily Luna and Naho grabbed hold of him firmly, just as the doors collapsed with a final, agonised groan. The furniture piled up against them as a final bulwark was shredded by the ravening hordes who burst into the room. Harry turned the device for a third time and pushed the release button. Just as the creatures lurched for the group, the world spun and shimmered and warped around them, and they were suddenly in a now-empty room. Well, empty except for the two shocked palace officials who regarded them with dropped jaws.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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"You have saved Our life, Lord Potter-Black-Malfoy," the Emperor intoned gravely. "And more importantly, the lives of Our wife and granddaughter. All three owe you a solemn Life Debt." He bowed formally to Harry, to the gasps of his retinue. "You have also given Us an opportunity to prepare Ourselves for this unprovoked and cowardly attack on Our person and Our seat of government."

Harry and his partners bowed low in turn. "Our lord and his retainers merely did what any loyal daimyō would do to protect his lord," Naho said formally. "There can be no debts for duty carried out."

The elderly man smiled in amusement. The door to the small bedroom opened and a burly man in full samurai armour was hustled in. "Lord Keibi, thankyou for appearing on such short notice," the Emperor addressed him. The soldier bowed respectfully. "We have received word that Kyōto Palace will be attacked within three hours of this time, in an attempt on Our life and that of Our Magical Council. Send out the alert and gather all available forces to repel them.

Lord Keibi started in astonishment. Rising to his feet he immediately said, "Your Majesty, we must relocate you to a secure location at once!"

The Emperor shook his head. "I'm afraid that will not be possible. Events are in motion that prevent such a course of action. However, there are three imposters in the palace posing as Ourself, Our wife and Our granddaughter. Find them and bring them to this room immediately."

Lord Keibi's eyes widened even further, then abruptly raced away.

"It is unfortunate what must be done," the Emperor mused to the room. "But the laws of time cannot be gainsaid, is that not right, young magical student?"

"It is as Your Highness has said," Naho replied.

"We must remain here for this afternoon's audience, but you and Sayako should avail yourselves of this opportunity to find safety," the elderly man said gently to his wife. A short, silent conversation later, and the Empress arose, nodded to the foreigners, and left, granddaughter clutched firmly in her arms.

Within a few minutes, Lord Keibi and a squad of guards arrived, hustling in a bewildered and vociferously protesting trio.

"We found them, Your Highness. A most amazing duplication – may I have your permission to have them tested for glamours and polyjuice?"

"That will not be necessary, Lord Keibi. Thankyou, you may go. I'm sure you have many tasks to compete before our enemies arrive."

The soldier looked uncertain about leaving a group of impostors alone with the Emperor, with only two officials and a group of weedy gaijin youngsters. But he could not resist a direct order; hesitantly he bowed and left. The group of guards positioned themselves outside of the door.

"Who are you? And what is going on here?!" demanded the other Emperor.

"I am truly sorry, but it must be done. All will become clear shortly," the Future-Emperor nodded at Harry.

Eyes widening, Harry suddenly realised what he was supposed to do. Slashing his wand up, he dropped the royal trio with a series of stunners, then carefully levitated them into the wardrobe, locking it with a weak _Colloportus_.

"Never thought I'd ever be doing that," he murmured.

"Nor We," chuckled the Emperor. "Now We must meet with the Magical Council and entertain your Past-Selves. You must stay out of their sight, of course."

A sudden buzzing filled the room. "Guess that won't be a problem for me," Tom said cheerfully. "Looks like I'm outta time. TTFN. Tootles!" And with a flash, he was gone.

Harry shook his head. "I'm never going to get used to a happy, smart-alecky Tom Riddle," he muttered to himself. Pulling himself together, he addressed the Emperor. "May I request that when the invasion occurs, your guards collect my colleagues and bring them to the Magical Council for their protection?"

"Of course."

"Then, with your permission, I'd like to set up some of my own defences around the palace."

The Emperor looked intrigued but nodded his assent. He motioned for his two officials to accompany them.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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Harry, Lily Luna, Naho and their two escorts re-united by the ceremonial lake.

"It's done – I've laid out all of our AK-47's and blasting stones around the perimeter. It's a total minefield!" Lily Luna announced. "This place is far larger than I'd imagined, took forever getting around."

"There are muggle-repelling wards and other mechanisms designed to conceal the full scale of the palace and grounds," the younger of the two officials explained. "There are also many stories underneath the historical buildings."

Harry nodded. "Just like the entire country. Thanks, Elle, good work!"

"I've transfigured the statues of lions, nio and asuras into animate guardians who'll eviscerate any invader. The magic should hold for at least four hours," a rather tired Naho reported. "But my magic is spent. I will be no good to anyone for several days."

"Thanks for your efforts, Naho. And you can sit the rest of today out. As for me, I've convinced Sallie the basilisk what a great idea it is for her to eat all of the white, green-haired human-like things that will swarm the place like ants before long. She's pretty hungry so it wasn't hard to convince her. It _was_ hard to convince her to wear the glasses and nose again, though," Harry added. "Told her that turning everyone to stone would prevent her from eating them."

"Where is Sallie?" Lily Luna asked, looking around.

"Right behind you."

The girl turned and squinted but saw nothing out of the ordinary. She was out there, she knew, somewhere in that sea of manicured lawn – hunkered down, barely breathing, and every inch of her 50 feet loaded with deadly poison.

"Down next to the lake. You won't see anything unless she wants you to. My girl's very good at camouflaging herself," said Harry proudly. "I'm not surprised, she managed to sneak all around Hogwarts in my second year without ever being seen."

"Now we just need a vantage point to watch all the fun," observed Naho.

"Good idea. Our other selves will be arriving soon, so we'd best get out of sight now."

"They came in through the tunnel from Omi no Sumi remember?" Naho reminded him. "Not through the gardens."

"Oh yeah," Harry replied sheepishly. "Forgot."

Lily Luna asked one of the officials, "Can you take us to a place where we can see the whole grounds?"

The two men shared a glance. "The observation deck. Follow us," the elder replied.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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"You may as well come out, Mr Tom Malfoy – I can feel your magical aura," Harry announced suddenly.

His companions looked around Kyōto Palace's observation deck in surprise.

A sheepish young man cancelled his disillusionment and strolled over to the others. "Nice one, Pops. Guess I've got more stealth practice in my stars."

"Ready for all the fun, Tom?" Harry asked mildly.

Tom eyed him. "So you know what's going to happen, do you? Hmmm. You're taking this whole thing so well; if I didn't know any better, I'd say we've met before."

"You haven't met me, but I've met you. And I won't have met you, but you'll have met me," Harry replied, smilingly.

Tom slowly started to grin.

"Here they come again," Naho declared, brandishing her cherry-wood wand.

The six observers watched with avid interest as the wards were hit on multiple sides, rippled and repulsed the attacks. They were hit again, shrieked in pain and finally shattered. The high, thick stone walls surrounding the palace complex blew apart in 20 different places. A mass of grunts surged forward from all gaps simultaneously, testing the grounds for traps as they approached.

"This was well-planned," Harry commented. "Whoever's organised this has strategic and tactical talent; and probably some military, police or Auror training."

"Now?" asked Lily Luna.

"Not just yet. Wait for the cannon fodder to pass through. We want to nab the proper troops when they arrive. The animated statues can handle the rest."

They watched as the next wave poured through. These were the Inferii armed with spears, katana, daggers, bows and arrows.

"Fire when ready, Commander!"

Lily Luna grinned, and pulled out a series of control stones. She tapped several with her wand. "AK-47's away!" Throughout the hordes erupted a series of green explosions. Bodies flew in all directions. Many of the zombies dropped to the ground instantly.

The Killing Curse was a bizarre hybrid of a spell: contact with inanimate objects triggered explosive concussive blasts; contact with animate beings immediately separated the soul from the body without damage to either. No matter whether the soul was an organic part of that body or was entrapped in it by means of necromancy. Which made the Killing Curse extremely effective against Inferii that still contained a soul or similar inhabiting will.

Tom whistled as he observed the carnage.

"Just a little something whipped up by your Aunts Hermione, Pandora and Lily," Harry said proudly. "Don't ask me how they work though. Magical theory and enchanting aren't my strong suits."

"What _is_ your strong suit?"

"Blowing things up, and flying around," Lily Luna answered for him.

Harry grinned. "Yep. What she said. And on that note, blasting stones!" he declared. He'd waited until the newly-blown gaps in the ranks were refilled by new troops.

Lily Luna tapped the remaining control stones. Another series of explosions, this time an angry red, rippled out through the masses. "Blasting stones, away! That's the lot of them!"

"I've just had an idea," Harry placed his bag of holding on the floor and opened it up. "Tell me when my other self and Sirius have gone back inside the palace." He raced inside.

Tom raised an eyebrow at the dilapidated colostomy bag. "Do I even want to know?"

"I'll tell you later. Look!" Lily Luna pointed. Far down below, they could see a tiny Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black hacking and burning their way through the white creatures.

"Energetic ain't they?" he drawled. Then his eyes widened in shock as bright wave of fiendfyre rolled out into the oncoming masses, sweeping the hapless beings away like a crimson tsunami. "Gah!" The sickening stench of burning bodies could be smelled even from their great height. On the other side of the palace, they could see Sallie charging into the army, biting, crushing, petrifying and chomping her way through.

"That's it," Naho stated. "They're back in the palace."

Lily Luna grabbed the opening of the bag and hollered, "Clear!"

"Understood!" came Pettigrew's distant voice. "Stand back, everyone!"

The others doubled back, dragging the two hapless officials with them. From the bag came a soft rustling sound, the suddenly the opening expanded to the size of an archway as a horde of black-cloaked shapes poured out like thick, black, gravity-defying molasses, their high-pitched keening driving the onlookers as far back from these beings as they could get. Like a great black cloud of bats, at least 100 shadowy demons descended onto the white army below, darkness went with them, and they cried with the voices of death. With great gusto, the terrible creatures began to gorge themselves on the souls below.

"That … Dementors … sweet Merlin's posing pouch!" whispered Tom in shock.

"You'd best be off, Tom," Harry commented to the young man, emerging from the bag with the air of smug satisfaction. "Time to go meet the other me and save my life!"

Tom managed to recover himself, and grinned cheekily at his would-be father. "Always a pleasure to serve, Your Worshipfulness!" He mock-saluted and trotted off down the stairs.

"Uh, is this going to be okay?" Lily Luna asked hesitantly. "I mean, what's stopping the Dementors from running loose and causing havoc throughout Japan?"

"Me," Harry replied firmly. "I've already made a deal with them: they only eat the white-bodied monstrosities and come back to their nest in the bag once they're done. No wandering off downtown Kyōto, no Kissing any natural human."

"And if they do not adhere to these terms?" asked Naho, staring at the carnage down below. Those attackers who had not made it inside the palace by now were slowly being encircled by the Dementors on three sides, and from the fourth side by a very large, very fast and very hungry basilisk. Airborne Dementors continuously dive-bombed the confused crowds.

"Then me and my friends from the Necromancy Guild hunt every single one of them down and give them an up-close-and-personal introduction to the Flown Charm."

"Won't that just encourage them to flee far away, beyond your reach?" Naho queried.

"Necromancy is a very broad field with a very large range of spells. Some of which are specifically designed to recall Dementors, force them to congregate at a place of your choosing," Harry explained. "It's how the Ministry was able to imprison them all at Azkaban, or force them to patrol Hogwarts, or force them to go to my house at Privet Drive." He shivered at the memories. "At least until they all up and eloped with me. I doubt the spells are strong enough to recall them all the way back to Britain, but they're certainly strong enough to recall them all from the Kyōto area and surrounding provinces."

They watched for another hour or more as the carnage ensued.

"Hey, isn't that Sirius and Narcissa?" Lily Luna pointed at the tiny figures racing across the field of battle, avoiding the swirling masses of intermingled black and white figures.

"Yes; and your past self and friends," Naho confirmed. They watched as the party of five crowded behind Sirius' Grim Patronus, which forcefully cleared a pathway through the Dementors.

"Skrewt-shite! I'd forgotten about them!" Harry cursed. "I hope I've got enough strength left for this," he muttered. " _Expecto Patronem! '_ Sirius, we're on our way!'"

A pale, silvery white mass struggled feebly out of his wand. The creature was an indeterminate blob of feet, antlers and tail. It gave them a resigned look and then floated slowly towards the retreating figures off in the distance, quickly joined by Lily Luna's butterfly. Given her own state of near-magical exhaustion, Lily Luna's Patronus was not in much better shape than Harry's.

"Come on," he said tiredly, grabbing his bag. "We've got to go give them a hand."

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	29. 26 Voyages with Vampires

**Author's Note:**

This is both a HP reworking of "Back to the Future" themes, and a continuation/soft reboot/reworking of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" by Rorschach's Blot. Both are used with the permission of their original authors (except for "Back to the Future" of course). The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter or anything else. Full disclaimer in the Table of Contents.

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Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.

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Canon-compliant. HP&DH compliant (except the Epilogue). HP&CC compliant (except the conclusion). FB&WTFT compliant. Pottermore compliant (mostly). Some crossover with: Naruto, Ranma ½, Neon Genesis Evangelion and Avatar: The Last Airbender. Primarily Harry Potter though.

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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "Tipsy Time Travel Tale" by Yunaine.

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Question of the Week: Was anyone ever able to prove whether "My Immortal" was genuine or the greatest troll-fic ever written?

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* * *

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 **Chapter 26 – Voyages with Vampires**

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I have long ebony black hair (that's how I got my name) with purples streaks and red tips that reaches my mid-back and icy blue eyes like limpid tears. I'm a vampire but my teeth are straight and white. I have pale white skin. I'm also a witch.

– _My Immortal_

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Padfoot the Patronus successfully managed to lead Padfoot the animagus, his betrothed and three younger charges through the dread hordes of black-clad demons and out of the palace grounds. Stumbling through a hole in the palace's thick stone wall, the group hurried through the foliage as fast as their weary legs would take them. The atmosphere began to feel lighter the further they got from the battle. Eventually, the air lost its bone-eating chill, and their breath stopped being visible.

The three time travellers gave audible sighs of relief to be far away from the chaos and confusion.

Scorpius shivered. "I never want to be anywhere near those things again."

"Which ones?" asked Narcissa.

"The black ones. Dementors."

"Yeah," Al mumbled. "It felt like every bad thing that'd ever happened to me, all at once."

"Here's a good bolt-hole to hunker down in until the excitement's over. Should be safe enough here," Sirius announced, indicating a mass of rubble that looked to have been blown clear off the perimeter walls.

The piles of stones were large enough to provide a defensible barricade. The group slipped inside. The three younger students collapsed in exhaustion against a large fragment and slid into a sitting position, supporting each other's weight. The two older students took up guard positions and scanned the area, even though they were close to exhaustion themselves.

"Sirius … Narcissa … thanks. Thanks for getting us out of there," said Lily Luna sincerely.

"Anytime, pup," he grinned. "Though you may want to be more careful with your calculations next time."

Lily Luna nodded tiredly. With a buzz and pop, the three time travellers were gone, returned to their own present once more.

"Think we should head back?"

"In a bit," the youngest Black daughter declared. "Let's rest for the moment."

Sirius could think of no objection, especially when she had them sit and leaned into his side, burying her face in his neck. Awkwardly he placed an arm around her shoulders.

Their recuperation was interrupted by the arrival of two faded, shimmering Patroni, barely visible anymore. One was a delicate silver butterfly, the other was a vague mass of limbs and other appendages; it reminded Sirius of a fluffy cloud that one couldn't quite decide which animal it most resembled.

"Sirius, we're on our way!" the latter Patronus wheezed in Pettigrew's voice, before dissipating.

"Your timing is impeccable as ever, milord," Sirius said sarcastically. "Glad to see the cavalry's arrived; guess we can just pack up and call it a day then, eh?" The butterfly looked at him in sympathy, before it too faded away.

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The Dementors politely moved aside for Harry as he trotted past, trying to retrace the steps of his quarry. The party of five made swift progress now that the tide of battle had broken, and the demons were merely mopping up the dregs. In the distance, Harry could see Sallie slithering lazily towards the lake for a well-deserved rest. And to digest the dozens of the Inferii she'd no doubt eaten. As they continued, he realised they'd acquired an honour guard of sorts. Two Dementors flanked them on either side, one took up the rear and one led in front. All other Dementors shrank away from the one which took point.

Lily Luna stared at the black robed creature with a mixture of curiosity and nausea. "So is that one the big kahuna? The Queen Demon? What was it you called her, Camel the Easterbunny of Runes?"

"Yes, that's her. Ah, actually her name's Khamûl the Easterling, and she was once the ruler of the kingdom of Rhûn," Harry amended sheepishly. "I got the translation a bit wrong."

"Gee, what could've given that away?" she asked sarcastically. "I mean, it's pretty common for soul-sucking monsters to take on the name of cute fluffy egg-dispensing children's mascots, after all."

"Well they _are_ called Nazgûl too – and that word sounds like one of the expressions Lily's 'wavy-gravy' parents would come up with: 'Oh Peter, it's so nazgool that you've helped our Lily-flower to see the light, daddy-o!'"

Lily Luna giggled. "And what light would that be?"

Harry waggled his eyebrows outrageously. "'Why the light of embracing her role as your freaky-deaky harem-slave and other assorted far-out debaucheries. Oy vey, that's so nazgool I could plotz!' Hmmmm not sure why they ended up so Jewish in my impression."

"I'm looking forward to meeting them once all this is over."

"This looks like the place they were last hunkered –"

"Get down!" shouted one of the officials, shoving the three teens roughly to the ground. The space where they were standing exploded into black and purple fire. Broken branches and chunks of tree trunks flew everywhere.

Harry dropped into an awkward roll and sprang half-upright, wand tracking desperately around to spot their attacker. Locking onto a dark shape, he let loose a chain of bone breaker hexes … which were casually swatted away as the figure moved out of the shadows and into the light.

"Bellatrix!"

It was indeed Bellatrix Black, the Valkyrie Beserker Bitch herself, in the flesh, in all her mad, bad and dangerous glory. She grinned down at the shaken five from her high point, madness dancing in her obsidian eyes.

 _This is bad, this is very very bad, worried the Otter. Three magically exhausted teens trying to take on the mighty Bellatrix Black at full strength. A Bellatrix Black who's no doubt spent the last few months doing nothing but hard training every single day ... what an evil fate …_

Yet, at a second, closer glance, it became clear that Bella wasn't at full capacity. The girl was looking awfully scratched up and singed. Her left arm hung limp and useless at her side. It seemed as if she'd just escaped a vicious battle barely intact.

 _That's good news, commented the Lynx. In her injured state, she will have insufficient stamina or magical reserves to present a challen–_

Harry dived to the left as another explosion of black and purple fire blasted his position of several seconds ago. His pause to take stock of the situation had very nearly turned him into barbeque. He felt the sickening, nausea-inducing residual energy of the dark curse wash over him.

Bella immediately followed up by casting a spell that hurled 20 glowing orange orbs down onto them. The group scattered to the wind just in time; as each ball hit the ground, or a rock or a tree or the remains of the perimeter wall, it exploded into red, liquid fire, eating through whatever it touched, dark steam hissing.

 _Or not, the Lynx conceded._

 _Oh great, whatever that is, it looks like the magical equivalent of napalm, the Otter noted sourly._

 _Tactical retreat would be the optimal strategy, advised the Lynx._

 _You got a way of doing that that doesn't involve us all being hexed in the back while we run away? asked Harry._

His feet stumbled as he scrabbled to find a defensible position. _Getting dangerously close to magical exhaustion again._

And then the Dementors were upon her. Khamûl and her five underlings fell upon the dark witch from above, reaching out for her soul with their long, wizened fingers and rotting mouths. The girl shrieked and apparated back 50 feet.

" _Expecto Patronem!_ " A large, silver hydra appeared in front of her. The seven heads bit viciously at the Dementors as they dived and wheeled, looking for a breach in the glowing white entity's defences. With liquid speed, the heads struck and snapped in all directions.

"Those creatures will not hold her back for long," announced one of the officials calmly. "Lord Malfoy, Miss Potter, Naho-sama, please stand back and recover your strength. I can see you are close to collapse. The two of us will continue this fight."

Harry was about to protest, but the two officials were already off, one racing around to flank their foe to the left and the other to the right. With shrill, high-pitched screams, the Dementors finally fled from the onslaught of the Hydra Patronus.

Bellatrix charged through the dissipating silver mist to regain her previous position, the high point which commanded the field. And spun as the earth beneath them gave a shuddering groan, then spewed forth rocks and rubble, which coalesced to form two enormous stone golems. The creatures wasted no time, grabbing huge blocks of stone that were lying on the ground (or tearing them directly out of the earth) and hurling them at the witch. Harry could see the two officials, hunked down in their respective positions, performing strange tai chi-like motions with their hands, brows furrowed in concentration.

The girl sqwawked and dived to avoid the stone missiles. And then the first golem was upon her. She dodged desperately, then fired off a curse that slammed into the golem like a freight train. Such was its mass though, that it was driven back a mere two feet. Quickly regaining its momentum, it lunged forward again, but Bella had had enough respite to pull out a broom from her pocket, unshrink it, and leap on board. The witch shot up into the air, and was quickly far beyond the golem's reach. Hovering 30 feet above it, she began casting furiously.

A shimmering lance of crackling black energy materialised over her head. With an aggressive jab of her wand, the bolt shot forward at incredible speed, piercing the golem in the chest. With a horrendous, deep baritone shriek, the stone animation exploded into slag. The official who was 'bending' it was hurled into the treeline by the force of the concussion wave.

Bellatrix gave a whoop of victory – followed by a shriek of terror as Khamûl seized her from behind and began sucking her emotions with great gusto. With a mightly heave, the witch managed to tear herself loose from the undead grip, but plummeted to the earth as she lost her hold on her broom. With a frustrated shriek, the Dementor tore the broom into two pieces and hurled them away. She then hurtled downwards after her prey.

Pop! Pop! With audible pops and cracks, Bellatrix vanished from her freefall and re-appeared half a foot from the ground. "Ooof!" The air was knocked out of her as she dropped the last bit of distance onto the hard stones.

 _Impressive, noted the Lynx. Apparition from freefall; and not a single splinch. Most impressive._

She wasn't down for long. Springing back to her feet, her wand leaped and pirouetted. A second energy lance appeared, but this time instead of aiming it towards the last golem, Bella shifted her gaze and fired it directly towards the second official. The man saw it coming a split-second later and desperately leaped for safety. The black missile struck his bolt-hole a moment later and detonated, the force of the blast hurling him through the air. The official howled as he rolled away down the hill. The second golem trembled, and then collapsed into a pile of inanimate rocks.

Bella heaved a sigh of relief. Her wand swifty conjured another Hydra which drove Khamûl away again.

"Looks like we're just in time for the party," came a familiar, drawling voice.

"Sevvie-pooh!" Bella squealed in delight. "What are you doing here? I thought you were taking care of business in Ame-gakure?"

"Finished early; came here to provide some back-up."

Bella beamed in an unhinged fashion.

"Dammit Snape, not you again!?" Harry snarled in frustration. "Why are you even here? What about your unbreakeable vow?"

"I only made an oath not serve the Dark Lord Voldemort, you snivelling rat," his former schoolmate sneered. "As you've no doubt already heard, there's new management in place now."

It seemed months of hard physical training and sunlight had worked wonders on the once sallow and gaunt boy. His frame had filled out, his shoulders broadened and his skin tanned lightly. His hair was cropped and less greasy than Harry had ever seen it. I looked like he'd just been on the raw end of a fierce fray too, bloody forehead, cheeks bruised, slight limp. One of the white Inferii followed him protectively.

The two Slytherins and the white creature took up a combat position, protecting Bella's flanks on left and right, wands pointed threateningly at their enemies … before Snape's wand casually swung to the left and cast a petrification hex. Bella's superb reflexes allowed her to sense and dodge the curse in a split second. She whirled to face her attacker, a retaliatory jinx on her tongue. Only to be clubbed in the back of the head at the same instant by the large, meaty fist of the Inferius. Even the fearsome Bellatrix Black had trouble deflecting simultaneous strikes at point-blank range, it seemed.

Harry, Lily Luna and Naho stared open-mouthed at Bella's sudden and unanticipated betrayal by her two allies. Until the glamours shifted and dispelled, revealing –

"Sirius! Narcissa!"

"In soundness of mind and sexiness of body!" Sirius replied, levitating his unconscious cousin and moving to join the rest of the group.

"Wow! I think we're going to have to title you Narcissa Black, the Mistress of Disguise!"

"Naturally," she sniffed in a faux-condescending tone, "one does not spend all that time learning appearance-modifying magic without picking up the odd impenetrable glamour or two."

"No kidding! You fooled everyone, even Bellatrix!"

"It wasn't difficult: I've known Bella all my life. And I've watched her and her 'Sevvy-buggins's' disgusting, vomit-inducing displays often enough to know what she'd look for." She cocked a perfect eyebrow. "You seem surprised. What did you expect? Andy's the hard-nosed head-kicker sister, Bella's the crazy bitch sister, and little Narcissa is the smart one," Narcissa preened, basking in the others' admiration.

"But how did you know what Snapie looks like these days?"

"An educated guess; if I'd appeared like he looked back in Hogwarts she'd've been on to me in an instant. But change a hairstyle, add a tan and a few pounds of muscle, and dob's your scutter. Wouldn't even matter if I was way off: Snape's out of his comfort zone, a stranger in a strange land, and out doing Merlin-knows-what dogs'-work every day. The only constant would be change." She flicked back a tangled lock of dark hair matted against her forehead. "Would've been a lot easier to use legilimency, but my sister's Occlumency is like a Nurmengard within another Nurmegard! I don't know anyone outside of Dumbledore who'd be able to Bruce force their way in. 'Course, the greatest mind shields in the world won't help you if you get suckered by a simple ruse," her voice dripped with disappointment at such inconstant vigilance.

At that point the two Imperial officials made their way cautiously into the clearing. A quick series of crude diagnostic charms (Lily was their healing specialist) seemed to indicate that the worst of their injuries were some burning, from Bella's black and purple fire, and a few cuts, scratches and bruises from when they had tumbled down the slope.

"That was some impressive fighting," Lily Luna praised. "How come you didn't say you could do magic?"

"You did not ask, Miss Potter," one replied primly.

"You've got me there," she admitted.

"No! You can't kill her! Please, Lord Black, I beg you for mercy!"

They turned to see a desperate Narcissa Black pleading with a grim-faced Pettigrew.

"She's already tried to murder me several times before. Now she's come with an army to try and murder us all! What will be next, a thermonuclear strike?" Harry demanded.

"I don't know what that is," Narcissa admitted, "but it doesn't have to come to that! We don't have to kill her to remove her from this conflict! She could be imprisoned, or placed in the muggle world, or obliviated, or have her wand arm removed! There are so many alternatives! Please, Lord Black, Please! She and Andy are my only sisters. Please!"

Harry looked into her pleading eyes and melted. He wasn't made of stone. "Okay," he conceded reluctantly, against his better judgement. "For your sake, your sister will live. But she can't stay here. Or in Europe. I won't have her involved in this war any longer, not in any capacity. For Bella, her fight is over, starting today."

He looked down at the trussed up and unconscious witch. A witch far too dangerous to leave wandering loose. He pondered what to do with her.

 _Why don't you do what you always did when faced with a difficult problem? drawled the Grim. No point messing with success!_

 _That's … that's pure brilliance, Padfoot! Harry cheered._

 _Of course it is, the Grim replied smugly._

To preserve his own flagging magical reserves, he explained his final judgement on his wayward charge, and told Sirius and Narcissa which spells to cast.

"You've been a very bad girl, Bella," her Head of House pronounced. "And bad girls don't get any presents."

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A parliament of very slow, very full Dementors lazily floated back into Harry's bag.

"Is that all of those … things?" asked one of the officials fearfully.

Harry waved his wand in a tight cork screw. "Yep, that's the lot. Come on, I also have a very sleepy basilisk to collect. Best to get her in her nest before she drops off to sleep out there."

"Why is that?" inquired the braver official, as the group made its way back out to the lake. Harry had to hand it to him, the man barely shuddered as he stepped over numerous still or twitching corpses.

"Have you ever had to deal with a cranky 50-foot basilisk before? Trust me, it's a right pain in the ass."

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As Harry exited his Expanded Space bag after settling his pet basilisk into her nest for a nice long hibernation, his rodent danger-sense kicked in like a blow to the skull.

 _Danger! screamed the Dormouse. Flee!_

"Incoming!" Harry shrieked, dropping to the ground and shielding his head instinctively.

Suddenly the park exploded into fire. Had there been one last wave of zombies, lying in wait to ambush any stragglers or survivors! His four companions belatedly dropped to the ground too as flames swirled around them. Very familiar magical flames, inducing a very familiar magical ecstasy. And a very familiar magical siren song. Sighing with relief, Harry stood, drinking in the last few precious microseconds of the phoenix fire that licked his soul, before it dissipated. All too soon it was gone, revealing a very familiar heptad of figures.

"Peter, my boy, never fear – the Order of the Phoenix is here to rescue you!" Headmaster of Hogwarts, Chief Warlock and Supreme Mugwump Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore, big of nose and red of beard, declared grandly. His wand was clasped in one hand, the Sword of Gryffindor in the other. The old man seemed to have de-aged a good 60 years or so: his hair and beard were no longer white as snow, but a deep, fiery crimson, his slight hunch was gone, and he was now extremely wrinkled, instead of being one sentient mass of wrinkles.

Surrounding him in duelling stance were his most magically powerful supporters: Alastor Moody, Filius Flitwick, Newt Scamander, Porpentina Scamander-Goldstein, Rubeus Hagrid and Minerva McGonagall.

 _Seven people? I can't help but feel a bit jealous that the Headmaster was able to put together a party consisting of a multiple of seven, the Otter grumbled. The Arithmancy is strong in this one._

"Where are the foul miscreants?!" demanded Scamander. "I'm feeling positively Olympian right now! I even brought my liver-eating eagle for the occasion!" The impressive bird on his shoulder flapped its wings and screeched in anticipation.

Fawkes' and said Titanic eagle's large, extended wingspans formed the perfect backdrop to this dramatic scene.

Harry began a slow clap as his associates climbed shakily to their feet.

"A most impressive entrance for the Order of the Phoenix, Headmaster. Pleased as I am to see you upright and energetic once more, I'm afraid the Eye of Godric must be on the fritz. You and your acolytes are three hours late to the battle. Perhaps if you have a time turner you could go back and 'rescue us' for real? Three turns should do it, I think," he replied earnestly.

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"A new package for you, boss," announced Jim, hefting the parcel suspiciously.

"What is it?"

"Dunno, but looks foreign. There's all kinds of crazy scribblings all over it."

Curious, Hermione took the package and unwrapped it. "Huh … that's not something you get in the mail everyday." She extracted a large lump of coal from the bubble-wrap.

"Coal? Is it the Feast of Black Peter today? Why did nobody tell me?!" demanded Bob, glaring at his fellow HAHA members in outraged betrayal. "You all knew I'm 1/19th Dutch!"

Hermione was reading the attached letter with a frown. "Thanks Harry," she grumbled to herself, "just dump your problems in my lap and give me those puppy dog eyes until I fold."

Looking up at the others, she announced, "We have a problem. This lump of coal has been very naughty and needs to go to time-out." She held up the offending cluster of carbon molecules for their inspection. "Lord Malfoy wants it out of Asia and out of Europe. Permanently. So I'm going to find the worst, darkest, coldest, farthest place from here and drop it in. Then forget about it forevermore."

Bob eyed the coal thoughtfully. "It must certainly have done heinous deeds to merit such a punishment. I shudder even to speculate on what crimes a lump of coal may be capable of committing."

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"My word," the Unspeakable on duty exclaimed, "how did you get in he– oh, Director Crouch, it's you. Back again so soon?"

Hermione favoured the man with a glare that was half contempt, half boredom. "Unfortunately yes," she drawled. "Seems there were a couple of items that the Unspeakables saw fit to withhold from me the last time I was here. I'm here to retrieve them."

"I'm afraid I can't just let you requisition things like last time, Director Crouch," the 'guard' said 'regretfully'. "My, uh, superiors were quite put out by the DMLE seizing so many of the DoM's most valuable bric-a-brac – er, I mean research subjects. There's been all kinds inquiries and inter-departmental memos on the subject … plus the Department's recently suffered some damage due to certain unstable substances that somehow got loose, so a number of areas are not safe to enter …"

"You needn't worry about things above your paygrade," she chided, knowing full well the chaos her last visit has thrown the DoM and DMLE into. Revelled in it, more like. "Here's my authorisation." She lazily handed over the document.

The guard accepted the paper. "'Give the holder of this paper anything he wants, signed Minister Bagnold'. I guess we have no choice then," he sighed morosely. "Come along."

They strolled once more into the deepest, darkest depths of the Ministry, places were almost no living human had ever accessed.

"So, what can we get for the Minister today, Director?"

"I need the experimental time turners the DoM has been secretly developing. The ones that can take you back more than the five weeks' limit. Seems they weren't with the others you provided last time. No need to look so startled, young man, it was hardly as big of a secret as the Unspeakables liked to think it was," she lied.

The ashen-faced man wordlessly led her down through a dizzying labyrinth of strange and wonderful rooms, of all different shapes, sizes and colours. Eventually, he undid a complicated series of locks and screws and dragged open a heavy steel door at least three feet thick. The room beyond was perfectly spherical and its walls painted in checked azure and gold colours. They entered cautiously.

"Here they are," her host said in awe.

In the exact centre of the room stood a four-foot tall pillar with a glass dome over the top. Inside were two glistening golden machines on velvet cushions, one red, one purple. Hermione recognised the two Devices right away.

"Unfortunately," the mysterious man frowned, "they are still in their early stages of development. It's nowhere near complete."

"Any stability issues?"

"No, they're perfectly stable. Problem is, we've only managed to get them to transport the user as far back as two years. And we haven't found a way to change events within the timestream yet. So basically, they're just ordinary time turners that can take you back slightly longer than the usual. We're still stuck within a single, fixed loop of phenomena. And you can only stay at your time-point of destination for a maximum of half an hour, before the transphasic temporal beacon automatically returns you to your starting time-point."

"Good enough," she declared pompously. "I'll need both of the Devices. And all the equipment and tools used to build these two. Don't worry about providing a bag, I took the liberty of bringing one of those mokeskin bags I collected on my previous visit."

"Of course," the Unspeakable said unhappily.

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"Honey, I'm home!" Hermione announced.

Ron's head popped out from the kitchen door. "Wotcher. I was just whipping up a roast ostrich. You've got The Device?"

"Both of them," she said smugly. "And the equipment they used to make them. There won't be any more of these infernal contraptions floating around if I have anything to say about it."

"You're so fit when you get all triumphant like that," Ron growled huskily, advancing on her.

Hermione easily evaded his lunge, sidestepping with casual grace as he tumbled over the couch she'd been standing next to a fraction of a second beforehand. "Easy, Casanova. Business first, then pleasure. There's no way I'm playing find-the-Snitch with that _thing_ in my Manor." She pointed at one very indignant Bellatrix Black, stuffed inside Umbridge's extra-large kneazle travel cage. Runes of unbreakableness etched into the wood and plastic of the carrier. The dark witch scowled and hurled silent invective at the two of them.

"Silencing wards, Ron?"

"Yep. Got sick of her constant bloody complaining."

"Well there's no more need to complain," Hermione addressed their captive. "Good news, Miss Black: looks like you'll be leaving us sooner than we thought."

The dark-haired woman raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

"No, no, of course we're not letting you go!" Hermione laughed. "How silly! No, we've finally decided what we're going to do to ensure you never raise a wand again! 'How is that good news?' I hear you mouth? It's good news to us," she said cheerfully, "since we won't have to deal with you anymore. Ta ta."

The was a flash of red, and Bella collapsed insensate.

"Well then, I have more good news for you. Found the perfect place in the muggle world to dump our baggage. Place's on the other side of the world from both Europe and Asia, extreme north-west coast of America. Pacific Ocean on one side, forest on another, mountains on another. Middle of absolutely nowhere. English-speaking, like you said. A little town called Forks. I picked it 'coz it reminded me of Fawkes," Ron announced.

"Of course it did." She smiled indulgently at him.

"It was either there or Phoenix, Arizona, but nobody should be subjected to muggle American country music," he shuddered, "not even Bellatrix."

"It was only the one time, Ron. I promised never to take you to another country music jamboree ever again in a million lifetimes, didn't I?" she said, patting his shoulder comfortingly. "Best just put it out of your mind. You want me to obliviate you, honey?"

Ron shook his head. "I'll just have to endure it. I'd rather not have any non-expert obliviator tinkering around in my head, if it's all the same to you."

"As you wish. You have the international portkey?"

"Arrived half an hour ago from the travel agent." He waved at a wooden plaque with a pair of antlers mounted upon it. "He said it was the sort of the thing that muggles did there. Make us more inconspicuous."

"I'm sure we'll blend right in," Hermione said sarcastically, eyeing the enormous horns that were half her height.

Ron finished his oven-roasted bird and had one of the house elves prepare vegetables and condiments and set the table, while Hermione focused her gigantic brain on learning the intricacies of setting time and place accurately. No way she wanted to end up in the sacred hut of some cannibal New Guinean tribe if she could help it. Finally, she felt she had an adequate grasp of the logic behind the settings.

After their meal, the expedition was prepared. Bellatrix, check. Portkey, check. Wands, check. Map, check. Muggle costumes to blend in (deerskin hats, flannel shirts, suspenders, stonewashed jeans, hiking boots), check.

"Twin Peaks." And with that activation phrase, the portkey hummed, and they were hurled clear across to the other side of the planet.

They were on the side of a dirt road. Coniferous trees surrounded them on all sides. In the distance they could see a cluster of buildings. Looking around, Ron nodded in satisfaction. "This is it all right, matches the pictures perfectly: the town of Forks, in Washing-machine. It's cold, miserable, windy, always cloudy and the rain never stops. Exactly like Scotland. She won't even notice the difference."

"Good work, Ronald. It's organisational skills like that which made me agree to date you."

"I thought it was the Firewhisky which made you agree to date me."

"Potato, Pot _ah_ to."

"What do potatoes have to do with anything?"

"It _was_ quite an epic night, wasn't it? I suppose if you're going to loosen all your morals and go wild for one night, the destruction of Voldemort _is_ the best justification for it." She pulled out The Device.

"So why are we meddling in time? Isn't dumping her on the other side of the globe enough?"

"An extra layer of distance. Reduces the risk of our paths crossing accidentally. This way, she's not just as far away in space, she's also as far away in time as we can manage. Without performing the Rite of AshkEnte, anyway."

"Still haven't worked it out yet?"

"If you like, Ronald," she said sweetly, "you're welcome to take point on researching the arcane time and space magics of the Necronomicon. I certainly have enough on my plate to take care of, and would greatly welcome the lightening of my workload."

"That's fine," Ron said hastily. "We all know my feeble brain can't hold a candle to your genius." Then, changing the subject as quickly as he could, added, "So why aren't we going back to the time of dinosaurs and dumping her into the nearest pterosaur nest?"

"This version of the Device has a maximum range of two years into the past."

"And we're not going to split the universe or jump into another dimension or cause a world-ending paradox or anything like that?" he asked warily, eyeing the Device with considerable suspicion.

"Nope, Unspeakables haven't figured out how to do that yet. Right now it works like an overpowered time turner. Which means whatever we've done has already happened, and it hasn't destroyed the planet. So don't worry."

"Very well, if you're sure. I trust you."

"I'm sure. Close your eyes." With a low buzz and a burst of magical power, they were there. Or rather, then. "Alright, let's find a suitable patsy."

They strolled along down the road for some time, looking for a suitable opportunity. A number of passing motorists gave them strange looks. They must not see two young adults – dressed in full lumberjack regalia, one awkwardly carrying an impressively large set of antlers mounted on a plaque (and struggling to balance it in his arms without poking his eyes out), and the other one carrying a large cat-carrier cage – walking around these parts.

"Here, this place," Ron said confidently, pointing to the small house slightly off the main track.

"Why here?"

"Look at it. Clearly whoever lives here is single; no bird on the planet would let her husband let the place go like this. And it's far from the main village, which means he's probably a bit of a loner. So nobody'd be surprised or ask questions if a teenage daughter he's never spoken of before suddenly appears in his home."

"Shut up Ron– wait! That's … actually not bad reasoning. We might make an Auror out of you yet."

"Hah! Soon all shall be in Awe at my Auring!"

"Can I help you folks?" A tall, slender brown-haired man with the kind of prominent moustache the 1970's were famous for inflicting on the world, emerged from behind the hood of a police car parked in front of the house. He wiped his oily hands with a rag and tossed it over his shoulder nonchalantly.

"Excuse me, sir, but we'd like to speak to your wife," said Hermione innocently.

"Afraid you have the wrong place. I don't have a wife."

"Children, perhaps?"

"Ahh, no."

"Do you happen to have a friend or neighbour present with you at the moment?"

The man's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Just who are you? I want to see some ID, right now!"

"Certainly, officer. Here you go: _Stupefy!_ "

Ron cast a _Hominem Revelio_ , but it came up empty. They were the only people for some distance. They levitated the policeman's body into the dining room and lowered it onto the dinner table. Ron began muttering and incanting in a low voice, wand dancing gracefully over the man's forehead. Hermione took the opportunity to rifle through his pockets. Finding his wallet, she took it over to the study and began rifling through the papers on his desk.

Satisfied with her findings, she brought the cage to the sitting room and levitated Bellatrix onto one of the couches. Frowning at the petrified witches' robes, she muttered, "No, that won't do at all. Walking into the bedroom she was able to locate a large, worn t-shirt and shorts that would serve as pyjamas in the short term. She quickly changed the girl into the them, incinerating the castoff robes. Then she investigated the rest of the house.

"Done!" Ron called. "He's perfect. Name's Charlie Swan. Ex-wife who he barely keeps in contact with, and lives on the other side of the country. No other family, not many friends. Captain of the local Auror force. Upstanding pillar of the community and all that."

"I know," she said, holding up his driver's licence and the other papers she'd found. "Used to be married to one Renée Higginbotham Dwyer. She shacked up with some athlete after the divorce."

"He always wanted kids, but his wife didn't. Would be ecstatic to have a daughter in his life. And now he does. Congratulations, mate. It's this sort of moment that really makes the job worthwhile ya know? We're such humanitarians," he brushed away an imaginary tear. "Born while he was married, but he hasn't seen much of her since the divorce. They have a distant relationship, don't really know much about each other. She moved up here to strengthen their relations and get out of her Mum's hair … and we're done." Ron finished casting his mind magic and moved over to the unconscious Bellatrix. "And now for number two: _Obliviate! Obliviate! Obliviate!_ "

While her boyfriend was busy wiping away every shred of Bellatrix's memories, and replacing them with new ones, Hermione worked her wand to set up a makeshift bedroom in the spare room. Levitating the spare bed from the garage into place, folding the sheets over it, moving everything the remotest bit girly in the house into the room to give it more of a lived-in feel.

"Done," panted Ron. "Mordred's shorts, that last one took a lot out of me." He slumped down into an easy chair to rest. "But probably not as much as it took out of her – she's going to be pretty blank and spaced-out for quite a while after this. Takes the mind a bit of time to get used to its new 'memories', especially since I've had to rebuild the whole thing from scratch. No time to put in much detail; I'm afraid Bella Swan here has led a pretty boring existence up 'til now."

"Bella Swan," mused Hermione. "I hope you do grow into a beautiful swan, Bellatrix. A sweet-tempered muggle swan, who wouldn't harm a hair on anyone's head. Fingers crossed."

"Dya reckon she'll manage to stay out of trouble?"

"I can only hope; there are no magical communities near here, right?"

"Nope; nearest one's a thousand miles away in a place called Ellay."

"Then she's buried in the heart of the muggle world. What trouble could she possibly get into?"

"Guess you're right, Hermione. Now all that's left to do is find this Renée Hide-bottom and give her a few memories too. I doubt she'd be as pleased as Charlie here to discover she has offspring. Not that it matters, 's not like she has to raise the crazy bitch. Strangely enough, the woman lives in Phoenix. It's a small universe."

"Kiss me!" Hermione demanded. She did so love it when Ron brought out his smart and competent side. It was rare, but she was trying to nurture it with positive reinforcement. Their lips met as they side-along apparated away.

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"Dirk?!" came the distant, tinny voice of his favourite (i.e., only) apprentice.

Dirk Murray dragged himself over to the Floo.

"Calling li'l ol' unimportant me by International Floo, boy?" Dirk smirked. "Must be costing you an arm and a leg."

"It's fine, the Japanese government's picking up the tab," Harry said dismissively.

"That so? In that case, I'm proud of you, sticking it to The Man like that! So what's this subversive Floo call in aid of?"

"Dirk? I, uh..."

"What's the matter, Peter? You know you can ask me anything."

"It's, uh... It's a little embarrassing..."

"Ohhhhh. I get it. You're almost 17 and you're starting to notice girls. Aw, crap. You don't have anyone to give you The Talk, do you?"

"Uh, no. But –"

"It's OK. I don't have any jobs this morning, so we can do that. I'll call it practice for when I have a son of my own. Now, the first thing you need to know is –"

"No! I don't need The Talk, really! It's just ..."

"Well? Spit it out! You're a good kid, Pettigrew, and I'm glad to help, but you've got to tell me the problem."

"It's, um, about my relationship with the dead."

"Oh! Professional talk! I totally missed that one. Sorry, Kiddo."

"So, um... I've done what you said and formed relationships with a ghost Headmistress and a bunch of Dementors and –"

"Stop! It isn't discussed, remember?"

"Right, but, um, I think I have to."

Dirk grimaced. He knew he didn't want to hear what Pettigrew had to say, but the kid _was_ all alone in this, and stuck in a foreign country to boot ... "OK, go ahead. You're pretty much my apprentice. That means I have to hear you out."

"So, um, you may remember that we had a bit of a Dementor problem. Well, I managed to make contact with the eight rulers of the Dementors, over at Hogwarts. I convinced them to leave the country with me, as there were better pickings in the wild regions of Mahōnihon than in Britain, considering they were only allowed to eat the emotions of the prisoners of Azkaban. And the occasional school student," he added sourly.

" _You're_ the one responsible for all the Dementors in Britain vanishing?!" Dirk asked incredulously. And then began laughing so hard he almost fell into the fireplace. "The DMLE and DCRMC have been going nuts trying to figure out what happened; it seemed like one day the whole hideous horde of them had just upped and caught the Knight Bus to Pluto!"

"I'm sure they're running around like headless cockatrices. More power to 'em, I say. But yes, to summarise, I've been sharing an Enclosed Space with the entire Dementor populace of Britain. Former populace. And we've had some long discussions. Where they came from, what they want, that sort of thing."

"This all sounds okay so far," Dirk said cautiously. He was glad the story was so tame. He wasn't exactly sure what he'd been expecting, but he was possibly the only necromancer around who didn't have some sort of 'special relationship' with the dead. It didn't seem to have cut into his ability to do his job, so he just kept his mouth shut and nodded knowingly when one of his peers hinted at that which wasn't discussed.

"Anyway, they've proven themselves right useful; we were attacked by an entire army of Inferii during our meeting with the magical government here. They were like nothing I'd ever seen or read about anywhere. The Dementors went right through them like a Cerberus through a daycare centre. Kissed half the bleeding lot of 'em."

"Describe the Inferii," his mentor ordered. Harry gave him a brief rundown of the battle, and what information they'd been able to gather about the strange white zombies.

"Hmmmm. Can't say I've ever heard of that particular type of Inferius," Dirk mused. "But then, I ain't never been to Magical Asia neither. You say they were vulnerable to Killing Curses and Dementor Kisses eh? Interestin'. So we know there's some sorta soul sittin' inside."

"Could you possibly have a chat with Master Dee and the rest of the Necromancy Guild for me? See if anyone knows anything more? There were probably 1000 of the bastards at least, maybe double that, I don't know. I was a bit distracted at the time. But I have a bad feeling that there's a whole lot more of them out there."

"Will do, kid!"

"Er, now about the other matter …"

"Say no more. No, you have to say more. What's the problem? Sure, that's a lot more Inferii and Dementors and ghosts than your average necromancer's likely to encounter, but I haven't heard anything too out of the usual. I think. It's hard to tell because it isn't discussed."

"Well, there's this Headmistress of the local magic school, right."

"Go on."

"Instead of having school ghosts like Hogwarts, the Headmistress of the school _is_ a ghost. A really old one too, judging by how powerful her aura is. She's got these little glowing balls of energy that float around her and follow her wherever she goes."

"Attractive?"

"Extremely."

"Yah, I get it." Dirk had been right the first time when he thought he didn't want to hear any of this.

"The fact of the matter is, she's gone missing."

"Missing in what way?" Screwing his courage to the sticking plate, Dirk soldiered on, determined to see this uncomfortable conversation through to the end.

"I mean, she went to go look for the Emperor –"

"Emperor?"

"It's a long story. The gist of it is that she went to go protect him and nobody's seen hide nor hair of her since."

"And you're worried about your little girlfriend?"

"What? She's not my girlfriend!"

"Sure, Peter. No need to be ashamed, we're all necromancers here. Although I can't say I've ever been in that kind of situation. Nor have I ever wanted to. Or ever wanted to even think about it …"

"Hey, wait a minute –"

"Still a woman is a woman, ghost-woman or not," Dirk persevered, trying hard to be understanding, despite his own queasiness. "And an extremely attractive naughty-Professor-ghost-woman to boot! Good on you, I guess. I'm sure you'll have her cold, ectoplasmic body back in your arms in no time." He tried manfully to repress his shudders.

Pettigrew sighed. "Just find out what you can about the Inferii. And if there are any spells to track down wayward spirits, will you?"

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"There you are. Our shuseki daijin told Us We would find you up here."

Harry turned from his position, leaning over the railing of the observation deck, to regard his visitor.

"How can I help you, Your Majesty?"

"It is rather what We can do to help you." The Emperor slowly made his way over to join Harry. "Your journey will be hazardous, and your enemies powerful. You will need allies. Take these."

"Thankyou," Harry said politely, accepting the official-looking folder with gold kanji lettering. "What are they?"

"Letters of introduction from Us. There is one for Our vassal the Daimyo of the Land of Fire, deep within the wild regions. Young Hi-no-Kagutsuchi Naho is his niece, which will get you through the door, but these official requests will ensure his aid." He sighed. "A terrible civil war is brewing in the interior. We fear there is nothing that can be done to avert it. The whole area is marked off on magical and mundane maps as 'nature reserves', and there are many wards in place to prevent unauthorised personnel from entering … yet these regions have always been a violent and often lawless place. The risk of it spilling into Magical Japanese and Mundane Japanese societies is high.

He affixed Harry with a piercing gaze. "And the European interlopers are strengthening the side most likely to destabilise our entire country, magical and mundane. Perhaps your intervention may reduce the destruction. We hope so."

He paused for a while, gathering his thoughts.

"The other potential allies, though members of Mahōnihon, live in mundane Japan. They prefer the convenience of the city, no doubt. Unfortunately, this has caused Our mundane and magical governments no end of grief, owing to their inability to maintain the International Statute of Secrecy for any length of time. Their leader is the Grand Master Happōsai of the _Anything Goes School of Indiscriminate Grappling_ , perhaps the most skilled and fearsome martial arts dojo in the country. He and his disciples would be a great boon to your efforts, should you convince them to ally with your cause."

"Not to mention having them far away in the middle of nowhere rather than in the heart of a muggle city would require far less damage control," Harry added with a smirk.

The Emperor inclined his head slightly. "The other is too bizarre a case to describe adequately. The individual and her 'associates' have been under surveillance of several magical and mundane state agencies for some time now. Our assistants will refer you to the relevant parties. There are letters of introduction from Us in that package as well. Unfortunately, Our ministers inform Us that several external organisations have been trying to seize control of this individual through various indirect means. Some of which are completely unknown to Us. They may cause you significant difficulties."

"My life has never been simple," Harry sighed. "Thankyou for your assistance, Your Highness, it is invaluable."

"Not at all. It is the least we can do, Lord Malfoy, since We cannot tempt you with the offer of a family member's hand."

"Yes … well, I mean … it's nothing against the Princess or yourself, you see … it's just that I have too many wives as it is …"

"Say no more. It is better to sleep on the roof than to share a bed with a group of bickering wives."

"Actually, there is one other thing you could do, if you'll forgive my presumption once more …"

"Speak."

"There is one more person who played a part in yesterday's battle. Without her efforts, our victory would not be certain. If you could see it in your royal heart to reward her as well …"

"Consider it done."

The two stood in companionable silence for a while, watching the reconstruction of the palace grounds below.

"Heavy is the head that wears the crown, Lord Malfoy," the Emperor said, out of nowhere. "If We may offer a word of advice – be good to your people, and they will stand with you through the greatest adversity."

"How do I do that?"

"One person at a time."

"Thankyou, Your Highness."

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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"Tell me Professor, have you located all of You-Know-Who's you-know-whats?"

"Indeed I have, Mr Pettigrew. You provided the diadem and the diary. Fawkes has successfully retrieved the Gaunt Family Ring from Little Hangleton, the Hufflepuff Cup from the Lestrange family vault at Gringotts, the Slytherin locket from the Avery family vault at Gringotts, and the serpent Nagini from Sherwood Forest. That last one was rather exciting, I must say – she did not come willingly. The poor creature was most displeased at the interruption of her hibernation. All of the items have been destroyed, except for the locket and the snake, neither of which contain you-know-whats."

"Nagini's still alive? What did you do with her?"

"Our Acting COMC Instructor, Professor Kettleburn has taken her under his wing. She now abides in a specially-enchanted habitation next to the groundskeeper's hut. Professor Kettleburn has been most assiduous in recreating an ideal environment, I'm told. I also hear that many of the COMC OWL and NEWT students are delighted to have a bona fide magical viper to examine. Creatures of such size and intelligence are rare indeed. Obtaining the necessary paperwork from the DCRMC was a painful headache, but your proxy Madame Umbridge was able to speed up the process immensely."

Harry laughed and laughed. "Poor Nagini – reduced to a spectacle in a magical petting-zoo."

"A much preferable fate to being liquefied, I would imagine."

"Point."

"And if your 'experiment' with the Goblet was successful, then I very much doubt that whatever remains of Voldemort has the magical strength to create new you-know-whats. It takes great force of will and magic to carry out the ritual; never heard of a shade being able to achieve that. A greater worry is that Gellert will take inspiration from his example."

"Yikes."

"Indeed. I have been turning my mind to finding methods to counter that possibility."

"Like what, Headmaster?"

"I will be sure to let you know if I reach something concrete, Mr Pettigrew.

"So what are the Order's plans now?"

"I believe your original plan to approach the Daimyō and Kages of the 'wild regions' is a most excellent course of action."

"Better you than me, then. I'll give you the letters of introduction from the Emperor. If you're going directly into the belly of the beast, that frees me up to run some errands over in Mahōnihon. The non-wild bit."

"Oh? Doing what?"

"Trying to gather some allies that were recommended to me. That's if I can convince them to help. One lot are a group of some type of animagi, or something similar. That seems like my best bet to start off with. We have at least one thing in common."

"And what would that be, Mr Pettigrew?" the Chief Warlock asked genially, eyes twinkling.

"Uh, we're all Leos," Harry replied nervously.

"Is that so?" chuckled the-slightly-less-old-man. "Then I wish you the best of luck. Mars is rising near Leo."

"You too, Professor."

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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"Another package for you, boss," announced Jim, hefting the parcel suspiciously.

"What is it?"

"Dunno, but looks foreign. There's all kinds of crazy scribblings all over it."

"What bizarre errand do you want us to run now, Harry?" Hermione grumbled to herself. She took the package and unwrapped it. "Huh … thankyou Harry, I love you too."

"Documents?" asked Bob. The other members of the HAHA gathered around to view the unboxing.

Hermione summarised the attached English letter. "It seems that, in recognition of Dolores Umbridge's invaluable aid to the Japanese government, which assisted them in withstanding a treasonous attempt on the Japanese Emperor's life, she has been awarded these by the Japanese Wizarding Board of Education."

She gestured to the three certificates, covered with kanji, and stamped with the gold-embossed seal of the Emperor of Japan himself. "Honorary Mastery in Charms, Honorary Mastery in Runes, and Honorary Mastery in Enchanting."

"Well done!" cheered Bob. "That will need to go up onto a wall!" Hurrying out of the Malfoy study, he scanned the walls of the manner until he found what he was searching for. Seizing the three pictures with the most impressive golden frames, he returned.

"Good idea," the grizzled old gym owner Jim complimented. Together they removed the Malfoy family photographs, objects of priceless sentimental value, and casually incinerated them, placing the mastery certificates therein.

"These are going straight to the Pool Room," Bob declared proudly.

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Bella stared out the window in silence.

It was beautiful, of course; she couldn't deny that. Everything was green: the trees, their trunks covered with moss, their branches hanging with a canopy of it, the ground covered with ferns. Even the air filtered down greenly through the leaves.

It was too green – an alien planet.

She went to the communal bathroom to clean herself up after her night of fitful rest. She looked at her alien face in the mirror as she brushed through her tangled, damp hair. Maybe it was the light, but it looked sallow, unhealthy. Her skin was pretty – it was very clear, almost translucent-looking – but it all depended on colour. She had no colour here.

Facing her pallid, unrecognised reflection in the mirror, she was forced to admit that she'd never fit in to her new hometown. Not that she'd ever fitted in in Phoenix, either. Maybe if she _looked_ like a girl from Phoenix, she could work it to her advantage. But physically, she'd never measure up. She should be tan, blonde – a volleyball player, or a cheerleader – all the things that go with living in the valley of the sun. She didn't relate well to people her age. Maybe the truth was that she didn't relate well to people, period. Sometimes, she wondered if she were seeing the same things through her eyes that the rest of the world were seeing through theirs. Maybe there was a glitch in her brain. But the cause didn't matter. All that mattered was the effect. And today would be just the beginning.

Breakfast with Charlie was a quiet event. He wished her good luck for her first day at her new school and left, off to the police station that was his new wife and family. It was impossible, being in this house, not to realise that Charlie had never gotten over her Mum. That made things awkward.

Finding the school wasn't difficult, though she'd never been there before. The school was, like most other things, just off the main track. It was not obvious that it was a school; only the sign, which declared it to be the Forks High School. It looked like a collection of matching houses, built with maroon-coloured bricks. There were so many trees and shrubs she couldn't see its size at first.

"So, this is a lot different than Phoenix, huh?" some imbecile asked her, as she strode towards her first class.

"Very."

"It doesn't rain much there, does it?"

"Three or four times a year."

"Wow, what must that be like?" he wondered.

"Sunny," she said laconically, wondering how the useless dunce managed to keep breathing.

"You don't look very tanned."

"My mother is part albino," she replied dryly. The dolt studied her face with apprehension. _That's it, take the hint and bury yourself under a garbage pile, you scruffy niffler-herder … wait, what in Mordred's name is a niffler-herder? And who's Mordred?_

"Well, good luck," he said as she touched the handle of her classroom door. "Maybe we'll have some other classes together." He sounded hopeful. Ignoring the fool, Bella went inside.

The rest of the morning's classes passed in about the same fashion. It was later, sitting in the lunchroom, blithely ignoring the feeble efforts to make conversation attempted by the seven curious, moronic-looking lackeys that she'd somehow acquired without trying, that Bella first saw Them. They were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where she sat as possible in the long room. There were five of Them. They weren't talking, and they weren't eating, though They each had a tray of untouched food. They weren't gawking at her, unlike most of the other mouth-breathers, so it was safe to stare at Them. But it was none of these things that caught, and held, her attention.

They didn't look anything alike. Of the three boys, one was big, muscled like a serious weight lifter, with dark, curly hair. Another was taller, leaner, but still muscular, and honey blond. The last was lanky, less bulky, with untidy, bronze-coloured hair. He was more boyish than the Others, who looked like they could be in college, or even teachers here, rather than students. The girls were opposites. The tall one was statuesque. She had a beautiful figure, hair golden, gently waving to the middle of her back. The short girl was pixie-like, thin in the extreme, with small features. Her hair was a deep black, cropped short and pointing in every direction.

And yet, They were all exactly alike. Every one of Them was chalky pale, the palest of all the students living in this sunless town. Paler than her, the albino. They all had very dark eyes despite the range in hair tones. They also had dark shadows under those eyes – purplish, bruise-like shadows. As if They were all suffering from a sleepless night, or almost done recovering from a broken nose. Though Their noses, all Their features, were straight, perfect, angular. Devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful. They were faces you never expected to see except perhaps on the ages of a fashion magazine. It was hard to decide who was the most beautiful – maybe the perfect blonde girl, or the bronze-haired boy. Suddenly he looked at her, the thinner one, the youngest, perhaps. His dark eyes flickered to hers. He looked away quickly, more quickly than she could, though in a flush of embarrassment she dropped her eyes at once. In that brief flash of a glance, his face held nothing of interest – it was as if she had called his name, and he'd looked up in involuntary response, already having decided not to answer.

"That's Edward and Emmett Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. The one who left was Alice Cullen; they all live together with Dr Cullen and his wife," one of Bella's minions whispered under her breath. She glanced sideways at the beautiful boy, who was looking at his tray now, picking some Jewish bread-thing to pieces with long, pale fingers.

"They are … very nice-looking." Then cursed herself for sounding so retarded.

"Yes!" unnamed minion #2 agreed with a vapid giggle. "They're all together though – Emmett and Rosalie, and Jasper and Alice, I mean. And they live together."

"Have they always lived in Forks?" Bella asked, racking her brains for memories of one of her summers here. For some reason, she was feeling particularly scatter-brained this morning. She hoped it, and the pounding headache, would soon pass.

"No," said insignificant minion #3 in a voice that implied it should be obvious, even to a new arrival like her. Bella absently made an mental note to arrange for this impudent peon to suffer some sort of spinal 'accident'. "They just moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska."

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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The final bell rang at last. She walked slowly to the office to return her paperwork, or some such fool thing that achieved nothing but waste her precious time. The rain had drifted away, but the wind was strong, and colder. She wrapped her arms around herself. When she walked into the warm office, she almost turned around and walked back out.

Edward Cullen stood at the desk in front of her. She recognised again that tousled bronze hair. He didn't appear to notice the sound of her entrance. She stood pressed against the back wall, stealthily waiting for the receptionist to be free. He was arguing with her in a low, attractive voice. Bella quickly picked up the gist of the argument. He was trying to trade from sixth-hour Biology to another time – any other time. She just couldn't believe that this was about her. It had to be something else, something that happened before she entered the Biology room and was forced to partner with him. The look on his face must have been about another aggravation entirely. It was impossible that this stranger could take such a sudden, intense dislike to her.

 _Unless he's jealous of my prowess at Biology_ , she pondered. _Just another fragile-ego'd male who can't stand a woman beating him at anything. And nobody beats me at anatomy._ A vicious smirk twitched at the corners of her lips. Oh yes, Bella Swan was _extremely_ knowledgeable about anatomy.

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"So, how was your first week of school, honey?" Charlie asked in a disturbingly-maternal manner when he arrived home, switching on the porch lights as he entered. Not that he was home late, the sun set so early here that it was dark by 5pm.

"Fine," Bella lied, voice distracted, too preoccupied to humour the moustachioed cretin she was forced to share a domicile with. She was busily compiling an extensive list of her foes, those who deserved only the most painful, humiliating and long-lasting of her (heretofore unknown) repertoire of horrific vengeances.

She wasn't quite sure where all of these deliciously delightful ideas were welling up from, but she wasn't complaining. Her enemies sure would be, though. If they were in a position to speak at all. Well, 'enemies', irritants, nuisances, hangers-on, parasites, bootlickers, lickspittles, anyone who had pissed her off in some fashion over the past week, really. Or even made her life slightly inconvenient, deliberately or no. The fool who'd come within a whisker of killing her by almost running her down with his vehicle after school, for one. That jackass who'd dared to speak to her on her way to class on Day One, for two. Unimportant minion #2, who'd dared to sass her mistress at lunch. Or was it unimportant minion #3? No matter, all seven of them deserved to make the list for interrupting her meals constantly and being thoroughly unhelpful in coughing up information concerning Edward Cullen and his cronies. Edward Cullen.

Bella put down her pen and considered the odd boy. Sneer at me in the middle of the lunch hall, will you? Be a self-absorbed, stuck-up git during Biology class, will you? Have the temerity to try and avoid classes with me, will you? Push me down onto the bitumen to 'save my life', as if I were too incompetent to simply step out of the way of that oncoming van, will you?

Oh yes. She'd have to prepare something _extra-special_ for Edward Cullen.

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	30. 27 The Ginevra Convention

**Author's Note:**

This is both a HP reworking of "Back to the Future" themes, and a continuation/soft reboot/reworking of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" by Rorschach's Blot. Both are used with the permission of their original authors (except for "Back to the Future" of course). The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter or anything else. Full disclaimer in the Table of Contents.

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Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.

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Canon-compliant. HP&DH compliant (except the Epilogue). HP&CC compliant (except the conclusion). FB&WTFT compliant. Pottermore compliant (mostly). Some crossover with: Naruto, Ranma ½, Neon Genesis Evangelion and Avatar: The Last Airbender. Primarily Harry Potter though.

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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "A Cadmean Victory" by DarknessEnthroned.

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Question of the Week: A lot of people have been pitching the idea that Dumbledore is really a time-dilated Ron - if that's the case, how do they explain why he left Harry with the Dursleys, or why he didn't fake the Potters' deaths?

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 **Chapter 27 – The Ginevra Convention**

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The early bird may get the worm, but it's the second mouse that gets the cheese.

– Jeremy Paxman

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And the day had started out so well. The first day of training camp for the reserves of the Hollyhead Harpies Quidditch League had been thrilling: broom drills, swimming competitions, Snitch-chasing races, meeting the rest of the reserve women, making lots of new friends. That happy glow had rapidly soured as the daylight rapidly waned. The source of Ginevra Molly Weasley's increasingly mis-tempered humour could be entirely localised in the bloated personage of Jarleth Hobbarte, owner and manager of the Hollyhead Harpies, and his blunt and repeated offers for her to become his after-dinner entertainment in exchange for moving up to a first-reserve Chaser position. Her cold and curt dismissals of said offers had little effect on dousing his enthusiasm.

Ginny discovered later that night from some of her reserve colleagues that Hobbarte had spent the last month bragging to all and sundry his firm intention to acquire the youngest Weasley (bar two-year old Victoire) as his latest trophy. That he had asserted to his fellow club bosses that the only reason he'd approved her admission to the Harpies was to achieve this goal of snagging 'the tastiest crumpet in the League', with the added benefit of cuckolding the most famous man of their generation, The-Boy-Who-Lived Himself. The most impressive notch a Quidditch owner was ever going to be able to attain, and one guaranteed to earn him the eternal admiration of his peers. This news, if true, certainly explained the whale's revolting and otherwise baffling persistence throughout the night. Eventually Jarleth, growing impatient with her 'coy' insistence on 'playing hard to get', cornered her in a deserted supply room and attempted to speed things to their 'natural conclusion' without further delay.

The Weaslette reacted to this treatment with her usual unflappability. The other women, alerted by the piteous screaming, burst into the room to find a multi-coloured two-foot-tall llama being viciously bludgeoned by his own bodily fluids. Ginny calmly announced to the gathered crowd that she was transferring to another team and promptly gathered her things and left.

Flying home on her purloined broom, Ginny realised that going home to Burrow was definitely a bad idea; arriving dishevelled in the middle of the first night of a week-long camp would trigger every alarm bell in her mother's head. There'd be no way of avoiding the midnight interrogation, nor the cavalcade of howlers her mother would insist on writing right that very minute. That left the next best option, so she swung her broom to the left and proceeded to the cottage belonging to the love of her life, youngest brother and best friend (all three of them, that is, they weren't all the same person, thank Morgana!). A trio she'd have done better joining for Harry's birthday/graduation celebrations that night, instead of the disastrous Harpies camp.

Landing in the front garden, she slipped effortlessly through the familiar wards and noticed that the lights were on and there were moving silhouettes visible through the curtains. Ginny immediately felt her agitation settle as she anticipated being held and comforted by her loved ones. Balls of smoke puffed merrily out the chimney. The witch hoped it was Harry and not Ron who was on cooking detail tonight. She still hadn't forgiven the cretinous chef-to-be for trying to make muggle ratatouille out of actual rats, the numptie! Unfortunately, the fact that they were cooking in the middle of the night did strongly suggest her brother as the initiator.

Stepping up to the house, she threw open the front door and joyously called out, "Hey boys, I'm home –" right as the house exploded.

A shockwave of magical energy blasted into her face, hurling her backwards. The witch spun around head-over-tea-kettle over and over again, like being caught in the roughest portkey imaginable, until darkness took her.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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Ginny groaned and managed to sit up. The vein in her temple was pounding like a hummingbird was trying to escape her skull, and her eyes watered in time to its beat.

An indistinct blob floated before her. "Are you alright?"

"Whzarppldrple …"

"The dizziness will pass soon," the blob replied.

True to the blob's words, her head soon cleared and she was able to discern her surroundings. She was lying in comfy queen-sized bed inside a wizarding tent of a kind far more plush and luxurious than the one her father owned. Wrong colour scheme too.

Alarmingly, her memory was patchy as to how or when she'd arrived at this place, where this place was, who or what that blob was, or what circumstances had led to the above. _Shite,_ she thought anxiously, _I've been obliviated!_ Reaching her hand to her skull, she began to probe for head injuries.

 _You have? That sucks!_

 _Who said that?_ Ginny demanded.

 _Who said_ that _?_ the voice retorted snippily.

 _I'm Ginevra Molly Weasley, who the hell are you?_

Ginny felt rather than heard the voice's shocked gasp. _Impossible!_

 _It's quite possible that I am what I am, I assure you,_ Ginny replied dryly. _Almost a certainty, in point of fact._

 _…_ _Mum …?_

 _Ah, I'm afraid not. I told you I'm Ginny Weasley. And you are …?_ she trailed off, none too subtly.

 _Lily Luna Potter of course, your daughter!_ the voice insisted shakily.

 _I must still be dreaming … or hallucinating … or under an illusion-spell … yep, this is definitely the sort of thing I'd dream up while under the influence of WWW's latest mind-altering powders and potions …_

 _I don't think this is a hallucination …_ the voice said doubtfully.

 _Of course it is, Me. Don't be so gullible. Why else would I have a non-existent daughter-voice talking to me inside my own head! You know very well that we've been pranked more times than we can count. This is admittedly on the extreme end of the spectrum, but it's hardly out of the Quidditch stadium for George._

 _Ugh! I'm trying to tell you that that sort of thing doesn't happen to me! James, Al and Scorpius are pants at pranking, they've no imagination and I could always spot 'em a mile off! And none of them are smart enough to invent powders or potions that'd make me imagine voices in my mind!_

 _Definitely a potion …_ Ginny mused. _What was it I saw on his workbench yesterday? Wolfsbane, fluxweed, 20 packages of Sudafed … dabbling into the Dark Arts a tad are we now, Georgie-boy …?_

 _You're starting to piss me off, voice of my mother,_ growled the voice.

 _Considering that I'm a pristine young maiden who definitely doesn't have a daughter or any other children whatsoever, and my boyfriend certainly has no Potter sprogs running around, I think we can safely dismiss_ your _opinions as mere drug-fuelled gibberish, Other-Me,_ Ginny said primly. _Now can we focus on sobering up, please?_

 _That's it, I don't have to take this, least of all from you Mum! I'm outta here!_

Ginny shrieked in surprise and discombobulation, flailing around wildly, as her body lurched upright, fell out of bed, righted itself from the floor, and staggered towards the door of its own volition. Panicking, she tried to regain control of herself. Which was only partially successful: sometimes her body followed her commands, and otherwise did whatever the heck it wanted! The result was a jerky, indecisive series of twitches and strange poses, as her limbs attempted to undertake two or more actions simultaneously.

"What in the name of Godric's glibbering gobstobbers is going on!?" she yelled.

Ginny suddenly felt a slap across the face, which immediately focused her attention on her assailant (meaning the next three slaps were unfair and should never have happened in her opinion). "What in the name of Merlin's saggy left lobe is your problem?" she demanded of a familiar-looking redhead who'd accosted her.

Suddenly her jaw and tongue moved of their own volition and her voice said in a confused tone, "Mum? Is that you?"

"She's seeing things," the redhead commented to nobody. "Do you think a few more hits will cure her?" she asked thoughtfully. Then answered her own question, "You're right, it couldn't hurt." Ginny begged to differ, it certainly could and did hurt. "Now have you two pulled yourselves together yet? I'd like to stop hitting myself."

Rolling to the side and springing to her feet, Ginny's wand was somehow in her hand and aimed between the intruder's eyes, an unholy rage in her own. Cheeks still stinging from the unexpected slaps. "You have five seconds to explain before I start hexing, Slapper," she snapped coldly.

"All will be revealed by this artefact," the stranger replied calmly, revealing a little golden handheld candle-holder. The candle's flame burned with a cold ethereal light. The blue flickering flame was strangely mesmerising to Ginny. The redhead raised the candle up to face-level, then blew it out. The purple wisps of smoke swirled around Ginny's face, and she sneezed. A wave of dizziness rolled through her and she stagged backwards, dropping her wand. The redhead leaned forward and seized her shoulders, gently guiding her back down onto the bed. "Just rest," she whispered. "It'll all make sense soon." Ginny was vaguely aware of the redhead placing the dropped wand on the bedside table and leaving the tent.

 _Can you hear me?_ A new voice swam into her awareness.

 _Who are you?_ Ginny and the second voice demanded simultaneously.

 _Naught but a corpse with a cursed, false existence,_ The Voice replied grimly. _One who has sought death but cannot find release nor reach the sacred place. I am trapped on this plane, living off the souls of the living and the dead. Pure is impure. Impure is pure._

 _You don't mean … you're possessing me?_ Ginny gasped in horror. Not another Tom Riddle controlling her mind and draining her body of its life force!

 _Do not be troubled, young one,_ The Voice said reassuringly. _Your mind, body, soul and magic remain your own – as much as can be said for one who shares all four with another. I am merely a squatter, inhabiting them for the time being until our task is complete and I can regain my independent self. I am no parasite!_

 _Well that's just wonderful,_ the other voice (calling itself Lily Luna, Ginny reminded herself) groused. _Not only do I get one stranger camping out in my mind, but she's immediately joined by another one! Could it get any worse?!_

 _That's rich coming from a voice that's visiting in_ my _head!_

 _Silence you two!_ said The Voice sternly. _There will be no more bickering. You are Ginevra Molly Weasley and Lily Luna Potter, two minds and souls sharing a single being. You WILL accept this fact and learn to deal with it!_

 _But … how is this possible!?_ Lily Luna demanded. Ginny agreed vigorously.

 _By some means unknown to me, Miss Weasley has been evicted from her original body and merged with you, Miss Potter._

 _Oh no!_ Lily Luna wailed in despair, _my own Mum inside my head … this is the Worst. Thing. Ever!_

 _This is the most bizarre prank Boy George has ever played on me_ , Ginny pondered.

 _This isn't a prank or a dream or anything lame like that!_ Lily Luna contradicted. _Something very very weird is going on._

 _Aid me and I will explain all, maybe we shall even divine a means of gaining you two separate bodies to inhabit,_ said The Voice. _And both of you will cease your squabbling this very instant!_

 _You sound just like Professor McGonagall_ , Ginny grumbled.

 _I shall take that as a compliment._ The Voice sounded amused. _It is good to hear that Minnie still keeps her students in hand with a firm grip._

 _You know Professor McGonagall!?_ Ginny was incredulous. How did this disembodied thing know her Transfiguration teacher? Was it reading her mind?

 _Fear not, Ginevra Weasley, I shall not read your mind without permission. Minnie has been a valued colleague for many decades, the field of elite magical teaching is not so large._

 _What exactly do you want from us in return?_ Lily Luna demanded.

 _I need your arms and legs, minds and magic. As I am, I can do nothing but watch. I need to find another to act in my place. One like you. Well, like you two._

 _Like me?_ the girls echoed.

 _I can see it in your shared souls. What you should have been, what you could be._

 _What_ are _you?_ Ginny demanded a second time.

 _That will become obvious in due time. Your answer? Will you aid me?_

Ginny bit her lip and considered it. This was by a large margin the most vibrant, detailed and long-lasting dream, hallucination or prank-induced illusion she'd ever experienced. She may as well get as much entertainment mileage out of it as possible. Going on a glorified scavenger hunt through a strange land with a pair of complete strangers could be a lot of fun, while she waited for its effects to wear off of her.

 _I keep telling you this isn't a trick, it's all real!_ Lily Luna huffed.

 _Well of course_ you'd _say that_ , Ginny replied sensibly. She took a leap. _Okay I'm in, Mysterious Voice._

 _And you, Miss Potter?_

 _I don't have a choice about this, do I?_ Lily Luna grumped. _That was my Future-Self who passed you on to us, wasn't it? So whatever you're proposing has already happened. No matter what I choose to do, it's going to happen regardless, right?_

 _Correct._

She sighed, _then I'm in too. Let's get on with this quickly, so I can get my mind and body back pronto. Be strong mine heart, ere now worse fates were thine._

 _Stop being so melodramatic,_ Ginny chided. _It'll be fun!_ _This has got to be a dream; and if this is a dream, then I can do whatever I want!_

 _Sure, let's go with that for now,_ agreed The Voice.

 _Where to first?_

 _Fetch your time turner. 13 turns should do it._

Lily Luna ducked back inside her tent and got dressed in her Japanese-style robes. Found her mokeskin pouch. "Time turner!" In a moment the device was in her hand. Throwing the chain around her neck, stowing the pouch in her pocket, she turned the machine the appropriate number of times. The world blurred around her. The girls blinked in the sudden bright sunlight of the previous morning. In the distance before them, Kyōto Palace and gardens stood undamaged. No cranes or reconstruction crews, no incinerated lawns, no devastated walls.

 _Now apparate to this location, with haste, before the Palace Guards apprehend you!_ An image of a bustling street appeared in Ginny and Lily Luna's minds. _I recommend only one of you take control whenever you apparate, else you will likely splinch yourselves to two different destinations._

The girls gulped nervously. _Ah, I'll do it this time_ , Lily Luna announced. She concentrated, and an effort later, the universe squeezed them out onto the apparition point of the thoroughfare.

 _Go forward 600 feet and turn left into the alley._

Ginny and Lily Luna swiftly slipped into the alleyway between two imposing pagodas, trying to ensure they didn't trip over their own feet as each unconsciously wrestled for control over their shared body. At The Voice's direction, The Scarlet-haired Witch(es) moved down the alley and turned into an even-seedier-looking area. One in which the morning sunlight was blocked by overhanging roofs and rafters, and most of the lights went unlit, and things lurked in the shadows with glowing-green eyes that followed her every move.

 _Just like Knockturn_ , Ginny mused. _Only more … foreign._

 _What a surprise, given you're in a foreign country,_ Lily Luna snapped back.

 _Focus! Cast a glamour on yourselves to appear as a dark-haired Japanese woman. Then go to the second shop on the left. Knock three times and tell the man you have coin if he has information,_ The Voice interrupted the impending squabble. They complied with the instructions and soon found themselves inside the shop, facing a distinguished-looking man of indeterminate age in a sea-blue kimono, smoking a long hookah.

"What sort of information were you after?" the man asked. His smile deepened as he gave them a once over. "Depending on what it is, I may be willing to take some or all of my fee in trade."

 _Incapacitate him._

 _With pleasure_ , thought Ginny. Memories of Jarleth Hobbarte still stung her, how he'd leered at her in exactly the same way that this Japanese creep was doing right now. _It's no bat-bogey or nightmare-dust but it'll have to do._ With a coy smile, she leaned forward and took his right hand in both of hers. All it took was twist in the right direction, the right amount of pressure and it shattered like glass. It was a matter of seconds to give his other hand the same treatment. Two stomps to the knees stopped her quarry from fleeing. _The benefits of growing up with six older, bigger, stronger, more rambunctious brothers_ , she mused smugly.

 _Remind me never to piss you off,_ Lily Luna commented.

 _That's exactly what my brothers would always say._

A quick spell had the howling proprietor hurled out of his chair and into a pile of misery in the middle of the store.

 _Stick him to the floor._

A quick Sticking Charm and it was done.

 _Can I shut him up now?_ Lily Luna asked, looking down at the screaming man on the floor.

 _Not yet. Go two steps forward to the desk and rap on the third drawer four times with your left hand. Then open it and do not touch anything._

Lily Luna complied. Inside was a knife, its single edge a bit longer than her forearm. It had no guard, the black tear shaped handle seeming to meld into the grey steel blade.

 _There is a glass on the side table. Break it and use one of the shards to cut his arm._

 _Why not the knife?_

 _It would be unfortunate for you to touch it until we've prepared things first, and we cannot use metal for this._

 _Cover your hands with his blood, do not miss a single spot. Now take the knife in your hands and repeat. 'By the life blood of your former master, I claim you as my own.'_ The Voice paused while she complied.

 _Now what?_ asked Lily Luna.

 _Find a hiding place and wait. The screams of the proprietor will bring his gang running in. Ambush them from behind._

Ginny disillusioned them and stepped behind the bright yellow-and-green suit of samurai armour mounted in the corner.

 _Three men will enter from the street entrance. Take two steps to the left. The one at the rear is the most dangerous, kill him first._

 _Anything else we should know?_ inquired Ginny, readying herself for battle.

 _All three are murderers and thieves, who would not hesitate to enjoy you, kill you and consume you. And not necessarily in that order. They are also inugami, werewolves. Use the knife I had you acquire._

Three shaggy and rough-looking figures burst into the store, long blades clasped in their hands. With startled cries, they raced over to aid the battered and bleeding man. Ginny moved with liquid speed, knife in her left hand, wand in her right. Her new blade slid into the trailing man's back and sliced through his kidney on its way to severing the man's spine as if they were made out of butter. The others tried to turn, but it was as if they were moving in water. The second was only just becoming aware of the danger when her attempt at a neat throat cutting almost severed the man's neck. The third's eyes widened in shock and he managed a short aborted scream before she cut him off with a thrust through the left eye socket. It was over. They were dead and she/they alive. An offhand stunner silenced the proprietor.

 _By Merlin's merkin, I reeeeally need to never piss you off,_ Lily Luna shuddered.

 _I take it you've never lived through a war, then?_

 _Closest was when I kidnapped a bunch of wizards using some blasting stones. I activated them from a distance though._

 _Very sensible. Never get up close if you can avoid it._

 _Where did you learn all this stuff?_ Lily Luna demanded.

 _You're looking at the Commander of the DA under Voldemort's dictatorship. You have to know these things when you're a guerrilla leader._

 _I thought that was Neville Longbottom?_

 _He was my second-in-command. What, don't tell me that he gets all the credit in the future just because he's a boy?!_ Ginny demanded incredulously. _Bloody Wizengamot!_

 _I couldn't say_ , Lily Luna demurred. _Oh wait, there was this one time when I stumbled accidentally into a battle along with my brother. We had to flee immediately, Sirius and Narcissa were shielding me._ _I didn't do any fighting though._

 _Sirius and Narcissa? How bizarre. You'll have to tell me the story some time._

 _Storytelling can wait,_ said The Voice sharply. _We have little time before somebody notices what we have done. We must cover our tracks. Shut and lock the front door. Then go into the back room._

The sweet scent of death and old blood hung in the air. The centre of the room was filled with a large cauldron flanked by a blood-stained butcher board. An assortment of knives, hooks, and tongs hung from the rafters. The girls shuddered as one. Bad things had happened here, the air was thick with it. Unbidden, their eyes fell on the old-fashioned icebox that seemed to dominate the far wall, next to a worn chest of drawers.

 _You do not have much time before they trace you,_ The Voice cautioned. _The proprietor was able to activate his silent alert before he was incapacitated. There is a trunk at the foot of the bed, place a drop of the man's blood on the lock._

 _What now?_

 _Place your palm on the lock and state that you claim the trunk by the blood of its former owner._ The Voice paused while they complied with its instructions. _There is a small tin hidden beneath the third stone to the right of the black stone to your left, knock three times on the third drawer then open the second before you retrieve it. Empty the contents of the trunk and the tin onto the bed._

An assortment of strange artefacts tumbled out on the bed.

 _Take the emaki, the hakkyōkō, the shichishitō, the shinsatsu and the tomoe._

 _The what?_

 _The scroll with pictures on it, the golden mirror, the jewelled sword, the wooden talisman, and the piece of jade shaped like a teardrop._

The girls hastened to comply, storing the objects in the mokeskin pouch. The remaining items were left as they were, scattered across the grubby sheets. It was becoming slightly easier to coordinate their actions without stumbling around like Tonks.

 _The proprietor has 2000 ryō worth of koban in his pocket – those are the gold wafers that look like flat bread – a Gringotts key in the heel of his left shoe and a gold chain around his neck, take them,_ The Voice ordered.

 _What about the other three?_ Ginny asked as they complied with the instructions.

 _Another few thousand ryō and a few more chains, but we will not be needing them._

 _Better to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it,_ Ginny shot back.

 _Take their rings then as well,_ The Voice conceded her point.

 _Why are we bothering?_ Lily Luna asked _. I already have gold. What's the point of hoovering up more from street rats?_

 _You have gold galleon coins and gold yen pieces_ , The Voice corrected. _Not ryō. The most important items for us are the artefacts, the key and the signet ring hanging around the leader's gold chain. The rest merely ensures we will have surplus to bargain with. Now go back to the other room and light the fire under the cauldron. There is a potions rack in the cabinet to the left of the icebox, throw all of the first row and the left half of the third row into the cauldron. Ignore the rest. Now set up a stasis ward and let us go. Apparate here._

Another image swam up into their consciousnesses. A different nondescript alley.

 _I'll do the apparition this time_ , Ginny announced. With a burst of magic, they were there.

 _Go forward, further into the alley. After 3000 paces, turn right into the spur lane. Now turn left, turn right, walk 1000 paces and then turn right twice._

Pausing only to wipe the blood off their fingers and renew the disguise spells, the girls hastened to comply with The Voice's instructions.

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The watch commander was hovering in the space between being asleep and awake when the alarm sounded, inconsiderately disturbing her scheduled second mid-morning nap. For a second, her jaw dropped and she stared at the device as her mind tried to catch up. _That shouldn't be happening_ , she thought drowsily to herself. The alarm never rang anymore, not since the War, they didn't even use it when they were running drills. "Aaagh!" she screamed, springing to her feet. She hopped the first couple steps while her boots tied themselves, and her robes flew off the hook and into her waiting hands. "Talk to me!" her voice boomed, filling the squad room.

"Class six disturbance in an area that's been red-flagged for rapid response," her former training officer reported.

 _Great, so it's one of the rich heavy-hitters that pays hand over fist for the Ministry's law enforcement staff to act as their private security service. Most likely chipped a fingernail … but on the off-chance that it's a genuine emergency …_

"I saw the alert, Aramaki. Get a lock and have the duty squad on scene as soon as the portkeys are ready," she ordered.

"Already done," the heavily scarred veteran Ōsakan Auror stated. "Also sounded the All-Call. I'm about to go and take command on the ground personally. Don't know what's happening, but I figured you'd want me to land on it with both boots."

The first dozen Aurors arrived in the alley six minutes after the alarm rang. It was slow, much slower than would have been the case a few decades earlier at the height of the War. Several detection spells were cast around the edges of the property and the results were not good. Magic had been done here. Old and powerful and Dark magic.

"Ishikawa, on point. Togusa and Saito back me up. Non-lethal unless they give us a reason," Squad Leader Aramaki whispered. "We take the front door on three. One. Two. Three – GO GO GO! AURORS! WEAPONS DOWN, HANDS UP!" Smashing down the door with their staves, the twelve burly men burst into the room. Staves and katana raised and tracking any movement, the magical foci charged and crackling with energy.

The store's showroom stank of magic. The three cherries looked around nervously, too young to have had a part in the late unpleasantness, it was their first time doing something like this for real. Wet, inexperienced, new enough to be almost useless, even they could tell that this is where it had been done, whatever it was.

"Report!" Aramaki commandeed.

"One warm, three cold," one of the cherries said nervously. "Warm's our code-red."

"Floor's secure. Spells say we have no other live ones but him," Ishikawa added, gesturing towards the unconscious proprietor. "Someone smashed up his hands and slashed his arm."

"And the others?"

"Inugami, all three. Someone introduced their insides to their outsides."

One of the cherries swayed back and forth, and it was only the quick thinking of Auror Togusa that kept him from making a close inspection of the floor.

"I've got a reading on a ward – someone's trying to hide something from us," Saito frowned, waving his hand in a series of jutsus. "Back room."

The squad leader led the charge. "Break it down," Aramaki ordered.

Saito and Ishikawa quickly made a series of hand signs to cast a diagnostic charms.

"No traps, it was obviously thrown up in a hurry." A few more jutsus and one side of the room seemed to shimmer, the ward collapsed and –

The Aurors' eyes widened as they saw the ominously-bubbling-and-spitting liquid writhing within the glowing-red-hot cauldron.

"That was a stasis ward, it's gonna blow!" one of the Aurors screamed.

"Evacuate, go! Go! GO!" the squad leader bellowed, the group barrelled out into the alley only to be hurled forward a split second later as the shop disappeared in a ball of lightning covered flame.

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 _Where are we going?_ asked Ginny, eagerly drinking in the strange clothing of the shifty-looking passers-by, the odd creatures that slunk about here and there and the unusual architecture of the shopfronts that graced these dark side-streets.

 _To acquire a rare device. To restore what was stolen. To obtain the tools necessary for our upcoming battle._ The Voice replied. _To seek the chance of a future filled with greatness._

 _I mean where are we physically going?_

 _Iwanai-chō._

 _Where's that?_

 _Far from here, have patience and I guide you to your means of transportation._

They spent the next few moments walking through the dim, ominous streets in silence, Ginny sightseeing, Lily Luna contemplating the deal she'd made and wondering if it had been a mistake to make it. Finally they exited the dark warren of streets and entered muggle Kyōto.

 _Do you see it? The Voice asked. The subway entrance? The one boarded up with planks and chains?_

 _What about it?_

 _Go in, don't worry about the gates or the locks. Just walk through them._

Remembering Platform 9¾, the girls closed their eyes and stepped forward.

Walking through the chains felt odd, like walking through a thick mess of spiderwebs, but the gestalt entity got through without resistance and walked down the stairs to another world. There were people, of course, dozens of them dressed in styles not fashionable since Shinsen-gumi and Omiwaban-gumi ruled the underground, all walking down brick streets filled with cobblestones and gas lamps. Kimono, frocks and top-hats as far as the eye could see.

 _Try to look confident, don't look around. We cannot afford to draw attention or the delays it would bring._

 _Alright,_ the girls agreed, plastering a look of indifferent boredom on her/their face(s). _Now what?_

 _Keep going straight until you see a red sign. There will be a blue waterfowl on the sign. Go up to the counter. Tell them you wish to go to Iwanai-chō in Hokkaido, with a return trip to Omi to Sumi in Kyōto. Then give them the gold koban you took from the gang. They won't care about the blood._

She managed not to flinch when she caught her first glimpse of the thing on the other side of the glass. Scarlet face, huge yellow eyes, big bushy black eyebrows and the largest, longest Pinocchio nose either girl had ever seen in their lives. Huge yellowing fangs were revealed as it sneered at them. The creature looked as if someone had attempted to craft a man out of melted wax, but their child had spilled tins of red, yellow and black paint into the mix. Even Lily Luna, the COMC Master, struggled to label the creature.

 _City-Tengu. They run many of the businesses in Mahōnihon, and often collaborate with your Gringotts goblins._

"1600 ryō for the trip, 10 percent fee for the enchanting," the creature said smugly, in answer to the girls' request.

 _Five or I'll say your name,_ The Voice whispered.

"Five or I'll say your name," Lily Luna repeated.

"Five!" the thing spat, sweeping the pile of koban through the partition window. For this exchange, they were rewarded with a thick foot-long piece of manila rope.

 _You have only half-enchanted this! The device would drop us right into the middle of Ohōtsuku-kai, pretender to the name Amatsukitsune. You owe me 200 ryō for your treachery or I say your name, son of a fake!_

Ginny dutifully repeated the words whispered in her ear and was rewarded with a glare of pure rage and loathing. The creature snapped its jaw in a birdlike manner and pushed a jingling pouch through the partition. It seized the rope and after a minute, replaced it with another one, seemingly identical in every respect.

 _Take the pouch and rope. Turn left and walk 200 steps,_ The Voice ordered. _Then activate the portkey. And try not to vomit._

The world began spinning. Lights flashed in the back of their minds and images danced across their field of vision.

 _Rise to your feet. Quickly._

They/She was on her/their stomach on a cobblestone road, one of which was pressed into a rather sensitive piece of their/her anatomy. The air was filled with unfamiliar sounds and smells. She could hear gulls and the swell of waves, and smell the salt in the air.

 _Quickly,_ The Voice repeated. _Before you're noticed._

 _Where to now?_ Their eyes darted around the street, searching for threats.

 _Turn left at the mouth of the street and walk for 62 paces until you come across a black sedan. It is unlocked and the keys are in the ignition._

 _Won't it get reported stolen?_ No one seemed to be paying them any attention but Ginny couldn't dodge the feeling that she was being watched by 100 Aurors, each waiting intently for their superior's command to bring her into custody.

 _Three armed robbers are sitting in that café. They intend to use it as a getaway vehicle for a heist planned later this week. They are unlikely to report it missing if they notice it gone._

 _How do you know that?_

 _Legilimency of course._

Ginny was impressed, in spite of her suspicions as to what The Voice's agenda was. Long-distance legilimency without eye contact was an extremely difficult skill to master.

 _Are these the sort of people we should be stealing from?_

 _No. But it will not be an issue so long as you are careful about not being caught._

 _Yeah, um ... can you teach me how to drive real quick?_ Lily Luna asked.

 _You do not already possess the skill?_

Both girls mentally shook their heads in the negative. Neither had ever had any reason to learn.

 _Wait._ The Voice went silent for several moments. _Turn 75 degrees left and walk for 200 paces. You will find a red delivery truck. Offer the driver 1000 regular yen to drive you to the temple named Kiko-in._

 _What if he says no?_

 _Tell him that you are aware that he's overly fond of the bartender of his favourite pub and that his wife is not. Ask him if he would care to have her enlightened._

The promise of 500 yen was enough. The bored man hadn't even tried to talk them up from the initial offer. Yet another advantage of being (i.e., seeming) young and adorable. It was almost noon when they arrived at their destination.

 _I just thought of something_ , Ginny stated. _I never learned Japanese. How am I able to speak to and understand everyone here?_

 _Touch your earlobes,_ Lily Luna instructed. _Feel those earrings? Now touch your tongue. Feel that tongue-ring? They're enchanted to facilitate communication. As long as you have them in, you'll be able to talk and listen like a native._

 _Get out here,_ The Voice commanded.

"Let me out here," Lily Luna echoed.

"Don't want the Bōsan to see you pull up with a strange man?" the muggle laughed. "Good luck getting in without that being noticed."

"Thanks."

The gestalt raced up the stairs and into Kiko-in temple. The small space was dominated by a large, ebony-black Buddha which smiled beneficently down upon the small human who entered. Surrounding it a plethora of gold and brass ritual items, flowers, and incense holders stood.

 _Go around to the back of the Buddha. In the space between the statue and the wall, there are three planks of a lighter wood making up the wall. Tap them in the following order with your wand: right, middle, right, right, left, middle, left, right, middle. Then step through the wall._

They found themselves in a narrow wooden stairwell. Climbing to the top, they entered a small study. Behind the desk a startled priest, resplendent in white robes and white beard, looked up and glared at the intruder.

 _Sit down opposite the gūji. A pity we do not have the time to do this properly,_ The Voice sighed. _Still, needs must. Take out the gang leader's gold chain, the one with the signet ring on it. Place them on the desk and tell the gūji that you have acquired what was stolen from him._

"How?" the man demanded, rolling the signet ring between his fingers slowly.

"It was well-known that Tadamichi Kyousuke had taken possession of your kamudakara," Ginny replied, as instructed. "What is surprising is that you made no attempt to secure them yourself."

"And have myself or my followers turned into inugami chum?" the man snorted. "I think not. Nevertheless, I and all the people of Iwanai-chō do thank you for your service to our town and island."

"I'm afraid it's not that simple. If you wish for your shrine treasures to be returned to you, you must part with another two."

"You seek to extort a temple!?" the gūji spat, outraged. "Such sacrilege!"

"Nevertheless, I and all the people I represent do thank you for your service to us, Kyōto Palace, the Magical Council and the Emperor."

"What service to the Emperor could a gaijin child possibly represent? Yes, I see through your pathetic disguise, little mahōshōjo from another place. I see you true form, covered in the blood of the slain. Your tongue drips falsehood as much as your form drips violence – pretty words to mask the stench of your extortion!"

"Whether you believe me or not, if you wish the return of these," the girl fished out of her mokeskin pouch the emaki, the hakkyōkō, the shichishitō, the shinsatsu and the tomoe she'd liberated from the back-alley dealership in Kyōto; they levitated in a ring above her head, like a crown of artefacts, "you will part with two items of my choice. If it makes you feel any better, it is for the sake of the country."

The man ground his teeth in frustration, but eventually the sight of his shrine's beloved kamudakara floating right before him proved too great a temptation. "Deal," he snarled. There was a flash of golden light as the bargain was struck.

Lily Luna levitated the five objects of power carefully onto the desk. She then stood up, walked over to the circular side-table and seized the golden artefact sitting in the exact centre. "This yorishiro is one." It was the little golden handheld candle-holder they'd seen Future-Lily Luna with at the beginning of their adventure, except this one was unlit. All three of them had recognised it instantly as soon as they noticed it.

 _Tell him the second object we require is buried under the cherry tree by the shrine at the top of the hill._

The old priest's eyes widened. "You are mad!" he cried. "You would bring ruin upon us all! No human can possibly wield such power!"

"Then it is a good thing I am not human," the gaijin girl replied in an eerie, ethereal voice.

"It matters not whether you are human, yōkai, yūrei, kitsune, kaiju, monster, beast or worm! Such a device will destroy you and all who are near you, this is certain."

"It is needed," the gaijin insisted implacably. "For the sake of saving the Emperor."

"Even if I were to believe such a fanciful tale, you'd be more likely to level Kyōto Palace than save anyone!"

"Are you reneging on the terms of a magical contract?" the girl purred. "Because if so, I am most happy to take back those five shrine treasures **_and_** the two artefacts I require as recompense. You wish this?"

"Aargh!" The gūji ground his teeth in frustration. He suddenly gestured and a hidden door built into the side of the room flew open. "Begone then! Upon your own head be it! But know that the Magical Council will hear of this travesty before the day is out!"

Not sparing the old man another glance, Ginny hurried out the door and up the long, steep, overgrown path that led to the top of the hill which overlooked the town of Iwanai-chō. Beyond it, stretching to the horizon, was Ohōtsuku-kai, blue and vast and glittering merrily in the afternoon sun. Panting from the exertion, the team finally reached the summit. A small wooden shrine stood next to an ancient cherry tree. A braided rice straw rope wrapped around its trunk, and paper lightning-bolts and dolls hung from every branch.

 _Now dig at the base of the tree_ , The Voice instructed. _Keep digging until you find a wooden container._

Lily Luna twirled her wand and the hard ground began cracking and uprooting itself, stacking into a neat pile of dirt and rock beside the tree. Beads of sweat began running down their brow as the magical toll of digging through such heavy, cloying turf, untouched for generations, began to make itself felt. Eventually, five feet down, they struck gold. Well, a wooden box anyway.

 _Levitate the box and carry it back down to the bottom of the hill. You will not be able to shrink it or fit it into your pouch. Do not delay, the_ _gūji_ _has gone to fetch his followers. They will attempt to prevent you from removing this box from Kiko-in and in your magically exhausted state, they may prove difficult to restrain. Once you are out beyond the temple's wards, activate the portkey again._

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 _Where are we now?_ asked Ginny, looking around the busy room.

 _Welcome to Omi to Sumi, the foremost magical hospital in Japan,_ Lily Luna announced. _Can we rest for a bit, my arms feel like they're going to drop off?_

 _Yes, we have some time before the action begins,_ The Voice agreed. _Rest and recover your strength for the battle ahead._

The Scarlet-haired Witch(es) tottered over to the large café adjoining the reception room and plopped down onto the chair in the farthest corner, giving them a clear view of the rest of the room.

 _Don't want anyone sneaking up from behind_ , Ginny advised.

 _So what's in the box?_ asked Lily Luna curiously.

 _In the fullness of time,_ The Voice replied.

 _Of course_ , grumbled Ginny, _bloody voice that can never give anyone a straight answer about anything._ She waved over a waitress.

 _Can you at least tell us about the candle-holder?_ Lily Luna queried. _I saw my Future-Self with it, so I know it's important._

 _It is the Jikan o Rōhi Suru ka no Kyandoruhorudā, the only yorishiro that can be used for our purposes. It is an artefact capable of attracting powerful spirits and housing them. Once a being inhabits the artefact, it becomes a shintai – a soul container._

 _Like a horcrux?_ Ginny asked in alarm.

The sudden, horrified expression that transmogrified her face startled the approaching waitress. With a cry of "Iya da!" the woman backpedalled rapidly from the unnerving redheaded gaijin covered in blood. The gaijin's eyes, and sometime entire body emitted an intermittent ethereal glow. And there was something about that large box, scattering black dirt all over the café, that just gave her the chills. Perhaps this was a task for Yumie after all. That woman was always bugging her for extra hours …

 _I do not recognise that term … let me see it in your thoughts … Kami-sama, no!_ The Voice recoiled in horror. _It is nothing like such an abomination! To even suggest such a comparison is vilest sacrilege!_

 _Er, sorry …?_

But The Voice had retreated in a huff and spoke no more for the time being. Lily Luna was eventually able to coax one of the other waitresses into coming to their table to take their order. The coffee arrived in record speed, the girls were extremely impressed by the efficiency of the service, though it was rather unnerving how much the staff trembled and refused to make eye-contact. Taking her espresso, the girls were startled to see blood and dirt smearing over her cup as they grasped it.

 _Ah, I guess we forgot to clean ourselves up_ , Lily Luna admitted sheepishly. _We must look a fright. That may explain all the odd looks the service staff keep giving us._

 _Frankly I'm surprised nobody's called the Aurors yet_ , Ginny replied.

 _We are in a hospital, seeing grimy dripping with blood is probably par for the course for everyone here._

Throwing back the scalding black liquid, the girls dragged their box and themselves to the nearest bathroom and spent the next 20 minutes scouring every speck of dirt and every drop of blood from their collective body and robes. Fortunately, Lily Luna kept half of her wardrobe in her mokeskin pouch, so they were able to change into fresh robes. Their discarded clothes were simply binned on the way out.

 _Now that you have rested and freshened up, it is time to move onto the next step of our mission_ , The Voice returned. It still sounded rather testy, to Ginny's mind. They made their way back to the reception room to find the main entrance.

"Well well well, what do we have here – a Potter-Weasley if I'm not mistaken!"

The girls started and turned towards their unexpected interlocutor.

"Wotcher, kiddo!"

"Nymphadora Tonks?"

"In sound mind and sexy body!" the Black metamorphmagus grinned cheekily.

"How are you alive?" Ginny asked incredulously.

"I practice my breathing every other day!" she joked. Nymphadora leaped forward and swept the gestalt into a crushing bear-hug. "So good to see you, kid! But pretty whack that you're so small. Never thought I'd ever see Aunt Lily Luna younger and shorter than li'l ol' me. Cuter too!" she pinched the girl's cheek, and grinned at her pout.

"How can you be here?" demanded Lily Luna. "Aren't you like, three years old or something at this point in the timestream?" She reached out to Tonk's head to feel the woman's trademark pink spikes, assuring herself it wasn't a glamour spell.

"That would be my doing," said a tall, dark and handsome stranger. The young man stepped up beside Tonks and slipped an arm affectionately around her waist. A man whose features looked extremely, eerily, horrifyingly familiar to Ginny –

"Gaaah! Voldemort!" She sprang back three paces, wand instantly in hand, a curse already shooting towards the space between his eyes.

"Nice reflexes," Tom Riddle complimented, casually cancelling the spell with a flick of his wrist.

"You won't trick me this time Tom," Ginny hissed, eyes flashing dangerously. "I'm gonna eviscerate you and scatter the molecules into every volcano in the Pacific Rim!" She summoned up every ounce of her remaining magic. Power began to crackle in the air around her.

"It's okay!" Tonks cried, stepping hastily in front of her man, hands outstretched, "he's not Voldemort, I swear! He's on our side!"

"Why does everyone always react like that whenever I visit the past?" he grumbled good-naturedly.

"On our side, are you mad?" Ginny demanded in amazement. "He's clearly influencing your mind – don't worry Tonks, once we've dealt with this slime, I'll find the finest healers in this hospital to break that _Imperius_ he has over you!"

"My boyfriend isn't evil, Lily Luna, I'm happy to swear it on my magic," Tonks sighed. This was clearly going to be harder than she'd initially anticipated.

"Boyfriend?! Bleaurgh! At least you're sticking to overage witches this time, you sadist, and not preying on naïve first-year girls," Ginny sneered, eyes flicking around the room desperately. _Terrain isn't good, not by a long shot – no cover anywhere, except for behind the counter. Which looks as if it wouldn't hold up to a single Blasting Curse. Tons of innocent bystanders and potential hostages milling about. Not much to transfigure besides a few chairs and that pot-plant. One dark lord and one brainwashed minion vs my myself and I. Just about the worst tactical position I could imagine!_

"He's not Tom Riddle anymore – he and his mother were adopted as Malfoys years ago," Tonks tried another tack.

"He's a _Malfoy_ too?! Well, that just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside," Ginny shot back sarcastically, eyes and aura darkening further.

The sick and injured waiting in Omi to Sumi's reception room began to mutter and back away as the magical charge in the air grew higher and more threatening.

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In the end, it had taken the pair from the future a full hour to convince the suspicious Weaslette that Tom Riddle, now Tom Malfoy, was not a threat and was genuinely here to aid them in the upcoming battle. It had required magical oaths on Tom and Nymphadora's parts, and extensive legilimency probing by The Voice before Ginny was finally satisfied that it wasn't all a cruel deception.

"This dream keeps getting weirder and weirder. I wonder if any more enemies, dead people or dead enemies are going to start showing up wanting to be my friend?" Ginny rambled to herself, rubbing her temples.

There was a whirr and a flash as Tom and Nymphadora reappeared in their seats in front of her. They periodically ran out of their allotted half-hour and kept being returned by The Device to their own time. It always took a couple of minutes (from Ginny's point of view), for the pair to re-wind it and pop back to the café to continue their discussion. Ginny idly wondered what the other patrons of this establishment must think of two customers who continually disappeared and reappeared in flashes of magic every so often. Glancing around, she could see the rest of the inhabitants of the café gave the three gaijin a considerably wide berth.

"So let me see if I've got this straight," Ginny began slowly, "my boyfriend, Harry James Potter, somehow threw himself, Ron and Hermione back in time to our parents' era. And me too. And somehow they now live in the bodies of Peter Pettigrew, Gilderoy Lockhart and Dolores Umbridge. And I'm now in the head of my future-daughter-from-another-dimension for some reason. A sorta-daughter who came from her own future to get Harry's help saving her own Dad from trouble with Voldemort, and decided to stay. Harry then went back in time _again_ using Lily's Luna's 'borrowed' Device, kidnapped Riddle and his mother before he was born, brought them to the future, which is actually the more recent past, and raised Tom as his own son. Then, once said son had graduated, Lily Luna 'borrowed' him a Device of his own and he decided to use it drop in on a bunch of his Da's old adventures and help out. And Tonks grew up in the Malfoy household along with Tom and eventually they started dating. So when Tom started bouncing around in the past, she demanded he take her with. That about sum it up?"

"Close enough for government work," Tonks agreed.

"Oh well that all makes perfect sense then, I'm sorry I doubted you and said you'd lost your marbles," Ginny said sarcastically.

"Oi! You may be my aunt (okay, two of my aunts), but don't think I won't put you over my lap and spank your bare botty in front of all these foreigners for your cheek, young lady!" Tonks waggled her finger chidingly.

"Are you at least still an Auror?"

"Sure am," the metamorphmagus said proudly. "Top of my class. I'll be running the DMLE within a decade, they say!"

"Well at least that part's still relatively sane," Ginny muttered. "Waaaay too much fluxweed and Sudafed in your hallucinogenic potions, Georgie-porgie, waaay too much … when I get my hands on you …"

"We're almost out of time," Tom announced. "Bad things are going to erupt all around this place," he checked his watch, "in less than an hour. Why don't you get your two aunts out of here until the excitement's died down, babe?"

"And miss all the fun?" Nymphadora pouted.

"I'm sure there's plenty of mischief to be had running around Kyōto with the crimson-haired hellions here. Especially considering that mysterious and powerful artefact she's got in that box ... I can feel its aura from here."

"That's okay," Lily Luna said nervously. "We just have a bunch of boring errands to run. No need for a chaperone."

"Ohoho, sounds intriguing! You've captured my interest now – alright babe, you win. I'll keep an eye on these crazy kids today." The two adults shared a quick peck. "But what if your timer runs out and you get zapped back to the future without me?"

"Just stick close to Pops, and I can use the Deluminator to find you both wherever and whenever you end up."

"Good idea; okay, looks like I'm having a holiday in the past today! You'd better not muck up your calibrations and come back to get me 20 years from now though, or you're so dumped!"

The 23-year old Tonks shared another brief kiss with the 20-year old Tom and he made his departure, fading away into invisibility as he left.

The pinkette seized the mysterious wooden box and hefted it under her arm. "I'll be your pack-mule, kiddo! We'll make a girls' day of it – it'll be fun! Onward!"

.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

.

.

They arrived in what looked like how Ginny imagined Gringotts would have looked 200 years ago. Thick, oriental carpets covered perfectly cut black marble floors. Gilded fittings on every piece of furniture. One side of the room was completely taken up by a line of mahogany teller's cages, each staffed by one of the goblins of the Kyōto branch who sat imperiously behind old-fashioned brass tills.

 _Go to the desk on the far left and state that you have a goblin-made item you wish to return._

"Let's see it then," the gnarled creature demanded rudely. "Give it to me!"

Ignoring the guards standing to either side of the teller (and Tonks' dismayed cry), Ginny drew the dagger she'd liberated from the grungy store and in a flash pinned the teller's hand to the desk. Her grin deepened as she placed her hand on the pommel and pushed it down. Neither guard made a move, though Lily Luna did note that each seemed to be doing its best to hold their mirth.

"Do you still want it?" Ginny purred. A frown appeared on her face when there was no response. In one smooth motion, she grabbed the nearest inkwell, whipped it around and shattered it against the teller's head. "I'm talking to you! Do you still want the stupid knife or would you rather I take it back?"

"Take it?" the teller wheezed.

"You'll recognise that it belongs to me and my blood?" Ginny asked, punctuating her question with a twist of the blade.

"Yes!"

"Wonderful. We have only two more bits of business before we go," Ginny said with a leer. "The first is this key." She dropped it on the countertop. "We would like to declare it and its contents to be ours by right of conquest. Unless you would like to object and try to take it for yourself ..."

"It's yours!" the teller squealed. The right guard lost its battle and began laughing openly, the left soon followed.

"I want all of its contents and that of any other vaults owned or controlled by the same person to be transferred to vault 616, belonging to Lily Luna Potter." The teller sagged against the counter as it went into shock due to blood loss and pain. "Did you hear me?" she demanded, raising her hand to deliver another blow.

"It will be done," an ancient-looking goblin promised as it approached the desk. "Pick him up and deliver him to the healers. Tell him I think it best if Gadnuk returns to driving carts until he's able to conduct a proper negotiation."

The two guards grabbed the fallen teller by the arms. "Take your dagger or I'll take his hand," the left guard stated. "Makes no difference to me."

Ginny pulled what was unquestionably her dagger out of the counter. She wiped the blade clean on a shell-shocked Tonks' sleeve and gave the older woman a cheeky wink.

"Now. Time is money," the ancient goblin stated. "I am Hardrok the Kyōto branch manager. Is there anything else Gringotts Kyōto can do for you?"

"Yes, from the contents of my new acquisitions is an artefact that looks like four metallic spheres that have been welded together. Bring it to me immediately."

"Gringotts will be happy to assist you for –"

"Standard rates, and you can remove it from the standard penalty owed to me for switching negotiators. I'll waive the rest for our use of Gringotts' secure transport to Wegelin & Co. in Ōsaka."

"Deal." The branch manager smiled, showing a mouth full of teeth. "Watching you deal with my subordinate was a pleasure, it's a pity you weren't born a goblin."

Ginny grinned back. "You wouldn't survive me."

"Ah, but what a way to go."

 _You have_ **got** _to teach me how to do this stuff, Mum!_ Lily Luna demanded.

"What have I gotten myself into?" Tonks mumbled to herself in a dazed voice.

.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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.

They landed badly. The secure transport from Gringotts shuddered and went from 100 miles an hour to zero in less than two seconds, hurling the two human inhabitants out of the cart at great speed. Their bodies slid across the hard stone floor and slammed painfully into the far wall. The goblin driver was unaffected by the inertia.

"Gringotts wishes you a good day! Thankyou, come again!" Ziplok cackled and pulled a lever. The cart began to reverse back into the dark corridor it had emerged from.

Ginny/Lily Luna and Tonks found their sprawled limbs untangled and carried by invisible hands up a flight of stairs, to be dumped unceremoniously onto a thick red Persian carpet. Tonks grunted as the box and metallic artefact were dropped onto her lap. This place was strikingly similar to Gringotts in décor. The walls of the room were made of stained oak and covered with brass dials and knobs of no apparent purpose. The centre of the room was dominated by a large ebony desk behind which was a comfortable leather chair.

"What can we do for you today?"

Lily Luna spun and found what appeared to be a half-sized man standing in a doorway she'd have sworn hadn't existed a half-second before.

"Forgive me." The man snapped his fingers as he walked past her to the desk. "Please, have a seat." He waved, drawing her attention to two chairs that now stood facing the desk. Ginny dropped her aching derrière on the nearest. Tonks plopped down on the second one a moment later.

 _Tell him that you shall require use of a facility where a power ritual can be undertaken._

"Did you have a place in mind?" the small man asked.

Lily Luna dutifully repeated the voice's instructions. "It must be close to a ley-line convergence point, preferably near Sumiyoshi Taisha. And have a ritual circle already set up. I understand that Wegelin & Co. holds title to three suitable locations. I will also require the following supplies: mithril dust, seven wardstones and an experienced rune master. Oh, and information as to where I can acquire the final item needed for the ritual."

"What!? You shouldn't be planning to perform dark rituals, kiddo–"

"Your requests are doable, but such services will be extremely expensive," the banker interrupted Tonks. Neither he nor Lily Luna spared the metamorphmagus a glance as they negotiated.

"Lily, you can't be serious about this –"

"Naturally." Lily Luna ignored the spluttering Auror and withdrew a Gringotts bank draft from her mokeskin pocket. "Shall we say, the entire contents of the vaults of the individual who donated this artefact to me?" She pointed at the strange metallic object clutched in Tonks' arms, alongside the now-clean wooden box.

 _Good_ , Ginny praised, _but be more assertive._ _Imagine they're your house elves or something; these banker peons exist to serve_ you _, not the other way around._

"I think we can come to an understanding," purred the small man.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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.

The watch commander stared at the squad leader. The rest of the Aurors in the squad room shuffled and looked at their feet in shame.

"You know who they are yet?" the commanded stated, rather than questioned.

"No one knows who they are," Aramaki rebutted. "I've heard some rumours around town, that's all."

"Well?"

"Two unknown persons entered the Ōsaka Museum of History this afternoon, said they were looking for a stone dagger."

"Like the ones used by the jōmon to make sacrifices?"

"No, not like. They wanted an original." He frowned. "It's the sort of thing that sounds alarm bells, normally the sort of people who are after that sort of thing are –" He gave an involuntary shudder. "Local Aurors kept a very close eye on them because of that." The squad leader opened his mouth to say more and closed it. Then, with a deep breath, he continued. "I'm told they walked past a dozen fakes, didn't even glance down at them, to get to the one genuine. Picked it up and examined it for several seconds, and broke it. Cut it in half with another knife and left with the pieces." The squad leader rolled his eyes. "I'm told the Aurors watching were so shocked they let the pair go. Contact of mine said there was a curse on the blade, wouldn't go into details, just that it was one of the mysteries of magic best left unplumbed. Said the thing that scared him the most was that two kids not only knew what it was but how to destroy it. And that they took it with them. All sorts of arcane magic you could do with the shards."

"ID?"

"Nothing. The two were under heavy glamours. Mundane security cameras also show naught but blurs."

"I don't know what's worse," the watch commander grumbled. "The fact that my bakabakashii yarō Aurors managed to blow up all the evidence, the fact they _forgot to bring_ our high-level protectee with them as they fled for cover like scared children, the fact that I now have to explain to Governor Asahara why his cousin's dead, or the fact that two of our suspects were able to just stroll into one of Mahōnihon's most important institutions, steal and destroy priceless antiquities, and then just stroll back out again right under my Aurors' very noses with not a one lifting a finger to prevent it! Is it your intention to turn the Ōsaka-Kobe-Kyōto Prefectural Magical Law Enforcement Division into an international joke? Is it your intention to –" she suddenly paused. "The wards have tripped. An unauthorised person has entered the station."

"All teams go!" the squad commander sounded the alert. "Intruder alert! This is not a drill!"

The watch commander frowned and brought her full attention to the wards. "They're gone." The law enforcement official frowned. "But there's something ..."

"Wha –"

Aramaki silenced the Auror with a look. Their keisatsu shochō needed to focus on the task at hand, she did not need the distraction of a junior Auror jogging her elbow.

"My office, I think," she said slowly.

"Ishikawa, Togusa, I want you two on point. Saito, watch the rear, no smart comments."

"Of course not, squad leader."

They made surprisingly good time for a group of paranoid Aurors expecting to find booby traps and ambushes around each corner and burdened with guarding their commander. It only took several times longer than it should have to reach her office.

"Clear!" Ishikawa called down the stairs.

The watch commander spotted the remains of the item that was giving the wards such fits. A priceless artefact that had been sliced neatly in two. She quickly performed a series of hand signs to cast spells over the stone shards. Her Aurors watched as the woman hit the objects with every detection and diagnostic spell they knew and at least two dozen they didn't before she was satisfied.

"Is that what I think it is?" the squad leader whispered.

"It is," the keisatsu shochō sighed. "The missing stone dagger. It has been used as a component for a very dark ritual, one best left unexplained."

"It's not so bad," one of the cherries offered, trying to cheer up his commander. "At least the culprit was kind enough to return the item to us."

"Are you asking for a practical lesson on the difference between regular brutality and police brutality?" his superior asked sweetly, levitating the shards off her desk and into an evidence bag with a gesture. "Because it sounds to me like you're volunteering to help me stress-test my new stave with your organs ..."

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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The commander looked up to see her old training officer looming over her with a mug of piping hot coffee.

"Looks like you could use a drink," the grizzled veteran said with a grin.

"You're a good man," the commander praised. "Unfortunately, I'm about to go and brief our redoubtable Governor, so it's not the appropriate serving size for the occasion."

"What _is_ the right serving for this type of situation?"

The commander removed an enormous mug with a white kitten motif from under her desk and emptied her coffee into it, Aramaki doing the same with his own coffee at his superior's urging. The keisatsu shochō opened a draw and extracted a three-quarters full bottle of bourbon, grimly emptying the entire contents into the mug. Then grabbed a bottle of aspirin and dumped all the little white pills into the concoction too.

"This one," the commander answered, downing the fizzling contents of the mug in one mighty gulp.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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Xiomara Lucrezia Zabini glided stealthily along the Viale dei Romagnoli towards the Ostia Antica. The few muggles in the area drove or walked past her with nary a glance, the light muggle-repelling charms applied to her black robe sliding their attention away from her like drops of water off a duck's back. She slipped amongst the silent ruins to find the desolate remains of the Ostia Antica Synagogue, est. 47 CE, the oldest synagogue in Rome, and the oldest in Europe on record. The girl pricked a pinky with her sharp nail, letting a single drop of blood fall onto the carved stone flower engraved in bas-relief on a lonely chunk of limestone. A heavy wooden door set within a stone arch materialised out of nothing. She pushed on it and, recognising her blood and magic, the door opened easily. As soon as she had stepped through, the door closed itself and disappeared once more.

Zabini strode through the passageway through the ancient wards and into the hidden complex beyond. Hastening through room after room, she diligently touched the ancient stone mezuzah attached to the doorframe of each one as she passed, bringing her fingertips to her lips after each touch. Finally, she reached her destination. A large, empty hall filled with desks and chairs. At the far end, behind an enormous wooden table sat an ancient man whose long white beard contrasted sharply with his long black robes. He busily inscribed arcane letters on a long scroll with his ostrich quill.

" _Shalom aleichem_ ," she greeted him formally.

"Shalom, young Zilla bat Mordechai. So, you have at long last come to visit me again," the old man said, in a voice like crinkling parchment.

She shook the soft wizened hand he offered with both of hers, then kissed her fingertips respectfully. "Mie scuse, grand-uncle."

Rabbi Meshullam ben Menachem chuckled. "I am sure you have many more exciting things to be doing with your time than wasting it with an old _trombone_ like myself now that you have a new magical school and a new _mishpacha_."

"Of course not, grand uncle!" the girl replied, scandalised.

"Va bene. But remember _Berachot daf_ 64\. I expect to see many children from you, many builders of Torah."

Xiomara nodded earnestly.

"Now as to your purpose. You will be pleased to know that your entrance-ticket to the Volturi Conclave has finally arrived."

"So he is here then!?"

The old man smiled at her enthusiasm, eyes twinkling in a very Dumbledore-like manner. "Downstairs in my office."

Giving her grand-uncle a respectful half-bow, the girl glided down a nearby flight of steps into the Rabbi's private study. The ancient room would have delighted Hermione, had she been present. Wall-to-wall bookshelves were stocked to the gills with tomes both ancient and modern. And in the midst of this bushy-bookworm-beloved goodness sat the person she had come across the world to see.

The vampire Eleazar Sanguini reclined before an enormous walnut desk, groaning with stacks of papers and piles of books. The immortal creature was tall and slender with a shock of black hair brushed rakishly out of his yellow eyes. He was reading one text while writing a letter absently with his right hand.

"Neck deep in seforim on _erev Shabbat_ – look who's looking like a real talmid, Rabbi Elazar," Zabini teased.

"Well, _talmidei chachamim_ do increase peace in the world, sí?" he grinned, an impish light dancing in his golden eyes. He stood up to accept her embrace. She sighed happily as she sank into his ice-cold arms.

"Sitting in an office doing paperwork is hardly the sort of thing an ancient and mighty vampire should be doing with his eternal time," Xiomara murmured. "Where's your granite throne whereupon you sit and savour your goblet of blood, while your vampire brides cavort in front of you for your amusement?"

"Sitting on a throne the whole day gets mighty boring, mi cielito lindo. And mighty sore on the buttocks that are boring a hole into it. And Carmen would behead me herself if I decided to collect a stable of vampire brides."

"How's Denali?"

"Dark, cold, few humans, and filled with wild creatures. It's Gan Eden!" he grinned, sharp fangs gleaming in the low light. "And how is Hogwarts? Has that bastardo astuto Horace Slughorn tried to recruit you into his menagerie yet?"

"But of course," she purred. "There is no club, society, association or guild that would not give its eye-teeth to have a Zabini as a member."

"Except British magical high society."

"Certo," she conceded sourly. "But plans are in place to rectify that."

"I heard – congratulations on your kiddushin, Lady Malfoy. Or is Lady Potter? Or Lady Black? How is that cholent of a group relationship working out for you?"

"Boh. Bene so far, but it is early days yet. We have not had sufficient time to get to know each other or regularise our household. That may have to wait."

"Since you humans are so short-lived, I would recommend you do not waste time waiting for your little conflict with dark wizards to cease, before building up your relationships and your new life."

She shrugged. "We will have to see where this war will take us, non?"

"Ah yes, the minor tiff you mortals so amusingly refer to as the 'Blood War'. Ha! It has lasted mere decades and is localised in a single island chain! I could tell you of _real_ blood wars, wars that lasted centuries and consumed oceans of blood, vampire and human alike. There was a time when no part of the globe was untouched by it, until –"

"… until the Volturi Conclave eventually grew powerful enough to crush all the conflicts and usher in an era of global peace that has lasted three centuries now, etc etc etc," Xiomara finished in a bored tone. "I remember."

He reached out a long, slender finger and poked her forehead firmly. "Don't sass your zakenim. It is only the influence of the Volturi that has kept the European covens neutral from all wizarding conflicts since the end of the Grindelwald War, including the one your new family is embroiled in as we speak. So show some respect – you're not too old for me to put you over my lap and spank you, mi pequeña!"

"What is it you're doing here?" she focused her attention on the desk, utterly unfazed by his threat.

Eleazar gestured towards the mess of parchment. "Vampire or mortal, it is paperwork that truly makes the world go round," he shook his head solemnly.

" _Gam zeh ya'avor_ ," she comforted him.

"My, so philosophical, little Zilla," he replied in amusement. "Nevertheless, the owl Post in Europe is far quicker and more efficient than in Alaska, so it's beneficial for me to get everything pressing out of the way while I am still here."

Zabini snagged a piece of parchment from the top of the stack, whose chicken-scratch message appeared to be written in red crayon. A few drawings of drops of blood decorated the corners of the page.

"Dear Mr Sangeni, will you be my friend? I always wanted to make friends with a vampire but my ma told me it was stupid. When I grow up, I want to be famous and travel the world and write about vampires. Have you killed anyone? What does human blood taste like? What is your favourite hobby besides killing people and drinking blood?" she read in glee.

"Ah, you've found my letter from the inestimable Eldred Worple, an aspiring vampirologist," Eleazar murmured.

"So are you going to write back to your number one fan?" she smirked.

"The very fact that a seven-year old child has managed to establish contact with me at all is an impressive feat. Perhaps I shall help this ambicioso in his desired vocation."

At that moment, an owl flew in through the window to deliver yet another missive. Xiomara had to relieve the jittery bird of its burden herself, as it refused to get within three feet of the vampire. "Thankyou little one, you may go now." The owl gave her a relieved bark and fled. She tossed the letter over to Eleazar who caught it dexterously. In half a second it was open and his yellow eyes scanning the contents rapidly. His face became ever-more thunderous.

"What is wrong, amico?"

"No lo sé, mija. It is from my father Carlisle. There are no details, but he sounds serious. More serious than he has been in the last century. Something is greatly amiss. I must return to America immediately, my mother Tanya may know more of this matter."

"Didn't your parents die of syphilis?"

"Not _those_ parents," he replied absently, reading the letter again. Very slowly this time. "The Great Vegetarian Clan of the New World consists of two families; the Denali Coven and the Olympic Coven. The matriarch Tanya Savicheva of the Denali and the patriarch Carlisle Cullen of the Olympics are the leaders, and are as parents for the rest of us."

"How much older than you are those two?" she asked curiously.

"Considerablemente."

A silvery lion appeared in the room. " _Kabbalat Shababt_ is almost upon us; come up, you two shall join us for services and kiddush," the Patronus instructed in the voice of Rabbi Meshullam.

"You go on without me. I am not in the mood for a repast," Eleazar said grimly.

"Che palle! Not in the mood – and you call yourself an Italian!?" Zabini mocked.

"I don't. I've lived in Spain many years more than I ever spent in Italy, young Zilla."

"Irrelevant, you are still a Sanguini, no matter your pretensions of Spanishness," she said firmly. "Now, yalla! Or do I have to find Carmen to drag you upstairs?"

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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.

Several hours later, the three of them relaxed in plush chairs on a high balcony, enjoying the evening breeze. The other witches and wizards politely gave them a wide berth for their discussion. Privacy wards had already been erected around their chairs and their end of the balcony some hours ago, to avoid breaking the Sabbath.

Below them the lights of Rome twinkled. They watched the small boats slowly travel down the Tiber River towards the Mediterranean, which was an inky line across the horizon. The two humans sipped their wine, while Eleazar made do with a goblet of sheep's blood in lieu of the sweet kiddush wine.

"The 'Clave has been in ferment of late," Eleazar observed. "I don't know what it is, but Aro and Renata are greatly agitated. At least as much as they ever get over anything. Something big is brewing as we speak. It might take longer than usual to gain access to them, little Zilla."

Suddenly Rabbi Meshullam sat up straighter. "The wards tell me someone has entered Ostia Antica. Carmel bat Hanania has at last arrived to join us."

She did not wait long to make her entrance; mere moments after the words were spoken, a dark blur leaped over the railing and landed on the balcony. If any of the other guests found it unusual for vampires to drop in randomly from the sky, none gave any sign of it.

"Quite a jump, Carmel bat Hanina," the old man complimented her. "That must have been at least 100 metres."

Carmen Zabini shrugged her shoulders indifferently. Like Eleazar she shared the common vampire attributes of grace, speed, height and ethereal, preternatural beauty. Her yellow eyes locked onto the girl, fanged teeth showed in a wolfish grin. "So Zillatta, you at last come back to your homeland? Is that any way to treat your poor, ill-treated ancient ancestors?"

"I could ask you the same thing, amica!" Xiomara shot back. "Swanning around the New World with your vegetarian friends, looking down your noses at the rest of us meshuggene mortal ants crawling around on our leaves. Is eternity so short a time that you cannot even reply to a letter?"

"Why you little …" in a flash, Carmen had her great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-granddaughter in a headlock and mussed her ebony locks unmercifully. Xiomara giggled and squirmed, lost in the flowing black tresses and iron grip of her captor, helpless against the noogie assault.

"We have no time to play, mi vida – Carlisle has contacted us, we must make haste to Denali immediately."

Carmen immediately ceased her roughhousing and switched into serious-mode. "What is the trouble, dodi?"

"Unknown, but it must be serious. We must cut our holiday short. Tanya will know what to do."

"You cannot leave yet!" Zabini objected hotly, springing to her feet.

"Fear not, pechocha, I will speak to Aro about granting you an audience with the Volturi as soon as I can. For now, I bid you _l'hit v'shavua tov_!"

"But –"

But her outraged protests were in vain, with a blur of speed the two immortal undead had cleared the railing and vanished into the night.

"Oh, that's nice," said Xiomara huffily. She flounced back into her chair, arms folded.

Her great-uncle laughed at her petulant pout. "Ah the impetuosity of youth! Let me tell you a story, bambina."

"That's your answer for everything," she grumbled.

"Certo, I am a rabbi after all."

Zabini sighed, there was no way she would be able to avoid hearing this.

"What do you know of the building of this synagogue?"

The girl shrugged diffidently.

"I shall assume nothing, then. Once upon a time, there lived a senator named Faustus Cornelius Sulla, the son of the great dictator of Rome Lucius Cornelius Sulla. A lackey of the desecrator Pompey, whom the Romans laughingly called the Great, young Faustus was the first to climb over the walls of the Temple of Jerusalem when it was stormed by Pompey's armies in 3697. The first Roman to desecrate the holy place by his idol-worshipping, man-slaying presence. The first to cut down the holy priests as they continued their avodah, unmindful of the soldiers' sacrilege as they murdered and pillaged around them. But Faustus' triumph was in vain, vengeance returned to find him. 17 years later, he was defeated, disgraced and cut down by Publius Sittius, the hand of our great protector, the Emperor Gaius Julius Caesar. And yet misfortune continued to plague the Sulla family. Members fell in war, died of diseases, were executed for treason unjustly. Many and varied were their tsores. Not unlike your husband's House of Malfoy. May it cease upon your house, young Zilla."

The old man clasped the thumb of his right hand in his left hand, and the thumb of his left in his right hand. Xiomara followed suit. "May we be of the seed of Yoseph," they muttered in harmony, to ward off the Evil Eye.

Rabbi Meshullam settled back and continued. "Some declare it the origin of the 'Dr Faust' legends of the Germans. Whether that is true or not, it is the case that Faustus Cornelius Sulla's great-great-grandson Faustus Cornelius Sulla Felix ordered the building of Ostia Antica Synagogue and provided the donations to fund it. To atone for his ancestor's crime, he set to establishing a replacement temple, a mikdash me'at, here in Europe. The foundations were set in 3807, on the day Felix married Claudius Caesar's daughter Claudia Antonia, considered a good omen. You can still see the propyleum and triclineum he built amongst the muggle ruins outside the wards. But the project languished unfinished, and the task was eventually abandoned. And so the disasters continued to fall on House Sulla. Finally, a descendant of Felix 10 generations later, a man named Faustus, nicknamed 'Mindus', 'the Mindful', donated the porticos, cupola and aron kodesh, completing the mikdash me'at at last. And from that point on, the tsores ceased to fall upon the family. They grew and multiplied and live on even until this very day."

"I am happy it turned out well, but how does this relate to my problem?"

Rabbi Meshullam was quiet for a time, watching a barge carefully wend its way through the Tiber. "The wheel of time grinds slowly but it grinds exceedingly small, bambina. There is nothing undone that shall be left uncompleted, no debt that shall remain unpaid, no hidden thing that shall not be revealed, even if it be as tiny as a carob seed. Like Faustus Sulla, the Sanguini family once committed great wrongs against House Zabini. Eleazar himself was no exception. And heaven has visited their cruelty back on them for a dozen generations. Now, like Mindus Faustus, the scion seeks to undo the damage, pay recompense to the descendants of his victims. And he will continue to do so until House Sanguini's debt is repaid in full, even if he does not realise that is what he is doing. His selfless devotion to Carmel bat Hanina is one aspect of this. So is his devotion to you." Grunting softly in effort as he pulled himself to his feet, the old man patted Xiomara on the head. "Worry not, Eleazar Sanguini de Gusano has made you a promise, and Carmel bat Hanina Zabini will hold him to it. A better advocate than them one cannot have."

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	31. 28 Dirty Hermione Callahan

**Author's Note:**

This is both a HP reworking of "Back to the Future" themes, and a soft reboot/reworking of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" by Rorschach's Blot. Used with the permission of their original authors (except for "Back to the Future" of course). The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter or anything else. Full disclaimer in the Table of Contents.

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Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.

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Canon-compliant. HP&DH compliant (except the Epilogue). HP&CC compliant (except the conclusion). FB&WTFT compliant. Pottermore compliant (mostly). Some crossover with: Naruto, Ranma ½, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Twilight, Lord of the Rings and Avatar: The Last Airbender. Primarily Harry Potter though.

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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "Make Wish" by Rorschach's Blot.

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Question of the Week: Any Umbridge/Lockhart Shippers out there? (Bonus points if it's Obliviated!Lockhart x Traumatised!Dolores)

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 **Chapter 28 – Dirty Hermione Callahan**

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Our brains have been designed to blur the line between self and other. It is an ancient neural circuitry that marks every mammal, from mouse to elephant.

– Frans de Waal

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"What do you want, Umbridge?" sneered Barsabas Evermonde, the third-in-command at the DCRMC. The tall, greying bureaucrat stared hatefully at the cancerous vile woman who'd leapfrogged over him to attain the job he'd been scheming towards for over a decade. And to add insult to injury, who was cracking down on departmental officials' bribe-taking, no less! The most egregious sort, anyway.

"A little chat, Barsabas."

"And what if I don't feel like chatting? What 're you gonna do about it, send me to the mail room like Lufkin, or set to dealing with the goblin filth like Jorkins?"

"I'm sure we can find something less extreme," commented the strapping blond-haired boy leaning on the wall in the corner.

"Who's your new boytoy? Never figured you'd be the sort to keep a stable of pool-boys on the side – I always figured your tastes ran more … amphibian that that."

"My apprentice, Gilderoy Lockhart."

"Apprentice? Apprentice for what? Permanent partial human-to-toad self-transfiguration?" Evermonde gave a dark laugh. "Never figured you for a joker, Umbridge."

"That's Deputy Director to you. Or Senior Undersecretary. Or Lady Malfoy, if you prefer."

"You're nothing but a 20-something upstart who thinks she's got what it takes to run with the big boys! You play around with gryphons, you're gonna get torn to shreds – fair warning."

"Boy! Fetch us tea!" she commanded, ignoring Evermonde's insults. The blond lad shuffled off. "Assistant Deputy Director DCRMC Barsabas Evermonde, you're here for this formal questioning session because I need answers from you."

"Formal questioning?" the man sneered. "What, you defraud your way to becoming an Auror now?"

"Hardly. It takes three years of experience to become an Auror, after you graduate from the Academy that is. And if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were jealous your own fraud is so lacklustre by comparison," Umbridge simpered. "Fortunately there are other options to the Academy."

"Like what?" Evermonde's eyes narrowed.

"I have a few strings I can pull," Umbridge replied vaguely. "And the standards to become a professional Special Ministry Investigator are much lower than those to become an Auror. All you need to do is fill out a form, get the Minister's signature, and pay all the relevant fees and bribes. Yet SMIs have many of the same powers and privileges as Aurors, go figure."

"For what purpose?"

"To clean up my Department." Umbridge gave a cool smile. "Lufkin and Gamp have left it a complete niffler's breakfast. Most likely compromised up the wazoo with Death Eaters and Death Eater sympathisers, to boot. The first step to disinfecting the country is dis-infesting the Ministry. Since I'm the Deputy Director here, I'll start with the DCRMC. And you're the first hansom off the rank, congratulations. Might as well start at the top. _Petrificus Totalis!_ "

Evermonde was fast, she'd give him that. And he'd been ready for her to try something like this. Diving below her line-of-sight in front of her desk, the man transfigured the chair he'd previously been sitting in into a snarling timber wolf, who leaped over the desk, intent of tearing out the woman's throat.

"Gaah!" Evermonde fell insensate to a stunner from behind. The intern had in fact _not_ gone to get tea after all.

"Good work, Ron!" his girlfriend praised as she banished the wolf into her bookcase. The crazed beast was on its feet again in a second, but the delay was just enough for her to cancel the transfiguration and restore her chair to its normal state. Ron helpfully replaced it in its original position.

"No problem, Hermione."

"Call me Dirty Hermione Callahan," she commanded.

"And none of this has _anything_ to do with you wanting to one-up Harry becoming a DCI, huh?" asked Ron dubiously.

"Silence, minion – administer It!"

Ron saluted, then forced the bureaucrat's jaws open and pored a small measure of Veritaserum down his throat. Then rennervated him.

"Are you now or have you ever been a Death Eater?" demanded Dirty Hermione.

"No," Evermonde replied dully.

"Are you now or have you ever been a supporter or sympathiser of the Dark Lords Voldemort or Grindelwald?"

"No."

"Are you planning to become any of those things?"

"No."

"Good enough for me," Dirty Hermione said as Ron administered the counter-agent.

"H ... how?"

"Did I manage to get ahold of Veritaserum?" she asked. "Classified." Having a thermos full of Polyjuice and a purse full of Crouch's hairs was certainly a useful pair of tools.

"What's the big idea giving me truth potion?" Evermonde yelled once he fully regained his faculties. "I'll see you in Azkaban for this, Umbridge!"

"It's perfectly legal when used in a formal questioning by a properly-appointed SMI," she replied in a bored tone, ignoring the angry bureaucrat's spluttering. "Especially if you have a signed dispensation from the Minister directly authorising this course of action. Stebbins. I need you to bring him to me."

"You haven't answered my question!"

"We can talk about that later," said Dirty Hermione coldly. "Right now I need you to bring me Stebbins."

"But –"

"Save it for later."

"But –"

"Later. Stebbins. Now.

"Ye, Deputy Director," he grumbled mutinously.

"And tell him nothing about what happened here today. Him or anyone else. If you do, I'll know and I'll get angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."

"Yes, Deputy Director." The surly man left the room, slamming the door behind him.

"That went well," Ron said cheerily. "One down, several hundred to go. Time to celebrate!"

"Celebrate how?"

"With food of course!", reaching into his robe pocket to fish out a bag. He tore it open to reveal a mass of writhing black beetles as a sticky sweet smell permeated the air.

His girlfriend recoiled at the sight of the insects. "Is that what it's supposed to look like, or did bugs get into it?"

"S'what it's supposed to look like." Ron grabbed a handful of the writhing insects and crammed it into his mouth.

She shuddered in disgust.

"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it. Aren't you the one who's always telling me I need to broaden my horizons, try new things, stop being so parochial, etc etc? Time to put your money where your mouth is … or put your mouth where your mouth is, to be more accurate."

"Hoist with my own petard," she grumbled, reluctantly grabbing one of the revolting, squirming creatures. Closing her eyes she went for broke and threw it in her mouth, chewing carefully. "Tastes like …" she trailed off, trying to find the right words to describe the mix of sweet, savoury, salty, and Other.

"Great, aint they? Sweet, smoked beetlenuts." Ron helped himself to another handful.

The door opened, and Evermonde returned, accompanied by one of their colleagues.

"Good afternoon ... Stebbins," she didn't smile at the large man. "Have a seat."

"What's this all about then?" The old paper-pusher looked around nervously.

"Drink what's in the glass," Dirty Hermione gestured vaguely to the glass of water on her desk. She didn't bother to look up from her notes.

"I have my rights!" Stebbins protested.

"If you don't drink, it you'll be fired and detained for questioning by the DMLE," she looked up. "If you do drink, you will be out of here in two minutes."

"Alright then," Stebbins downed the liquid.

"Are you a Death Eater?" she leaned forward.

"Yes," Stebbins nodded.

"Good, that's all I need ... give him the counter-agent."

A shocked Evermonde could only stare while the large blond lad let a few drops of potion into the other bureaucrat's mouth. "But why not ask him questions about Death Eater plans or ID other moles?" Evermonde protested.

"That's not part of my job as an SMI," Dirty Hermione yawned.

Stebbins blinked a couple times before he realised that he still had his wand. Drawing it slowly, he focused on the toad-woman. The Dark Lords would grant him a great reward for the death of Runcorn's murderer. "Die, blood-traitor!" Stebbins brought his wand up to bear. Right at the middle of her enormous forehead.

In a flash, Dirty Hermione's wand appeared in her hand. The first Cutting Curse took Stebbins across his wand hand, destroying the man's wand and removing several fingers. Ron's simultaneous curse from behind took the man across the back of the head, destroying one eye and half the man's nose. The Death Eater formerly known as Stebbins slumped to the ground.

"Cleanup!" she announced. A house elf appeared and immediately began mopping up the blood and gore. "Thankyou Twerky," she smiled kindly at the diligent creature. "Please give this note to the Auror Duty Officer and ask if he or she would come collect the corpse. Thankyou. Evermonde, bring in the next one!"

The afternoon quickly became routine. Dirty Hermione and her sidekick would question a person. If they were innocent, they would be released. But if they were a Death Eater or sympathiser, they frequently ended up going to the morgue. Those who did not were 'escorted' to the Duty Auror for processing by the DMLE.

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"Arthur, I need you to come with me."

Arthur looked up from his papers. "Andy? What can I do for you?"

"I need you to come with me Arthur," Auror Andy replied. "Dirty Hermione wants to talk to you."

"Dirty Hermione?"

"DD-DCRMC Umbridge. The Minister's Bloody Hand," Auror Andy explained. "Her personal assassin. Doing Merlin's own work. Or more accurately, doing Crouch's work for him. Don't know why the Director didn't do it himself – oh wait, yes I do, too many political complications abducting the scions of noble Houses in powerful Ministry positions for questioning without evidence."

"What would someone like that want with me?" Arthur asked in horror. And Umbridge had seemed such a kind, decent sort every time he'd met her.

"Arthur," Andy ignored his friend's question. "We've been friends how long?"

"Nearly 30 years," Arthur replied. "Andy?"

"Arthur, I don't think you're a Death Eater." Andy began slowly. "But if you are, don't pull your wand."

"Wha?"

"Just don't pull your wand," Andy repeated. "It's what she wants."

"Andy, I don't understand."

"Just don't pull your wand," Andy whispered one last time. "See you soon, Arthur." Arthur looked up to find that his friend had led him to a nondescript door with several Aurors milling around in front of it.

"You're next, Arthur," Scrimgeour said cheerfully.

"Rufus?" Arthur asked in shock, "What's going on?"

"I've seen more death in four hours then I have in half my career," Scrimgeour replied. "The DCRMC is plowing through its people like a hog through a truffle-farm. Dug out a nest of DE partisans hiding out in the DCRMC. Bunch of the lads from the DMLE decided to get in on the action, after the first few stiffs started turning up on the Duty Auror's desk. They're scouring the Ministry as we speak, dragging back anyone who doesn't seem to be doing anything useful for questioning.

"It's about time the rest of the Ministry matched the DMLE's internal screening processes," growled Thicknesse approvingly. "Life'd be far easier for us Aurors if we didn't have to constantly watch our backs for officials in other Departments stabbing us from behind or cutting off our backup's Floo access!"

"Even Director Crouch's come along for the spectacle," added Robards. "He's inside right now enjoying the show."

A rather dazed looking witch in thick glasses and violet robes staggered out of the room and made her way back to tiny hole-in-the-wall on the next level.

"That's another one clean. You can go in now, Arthur," said Scrimgeour.

Arthur nervously made his way through the crowd and through the door. "Dolores?"

"Hey Mr Weasley," Dirty Hermione said cheerfully. "How is everyone at the Manor?"

"They're well," Arthur replied. "Director Crouch?"

Bartemius Crouch turned from his surprisingly-casual slouch against the wall and gave the man an impertinent wink. "It's actually Gilderoy Lockhart in here," he confessed conspiratorially. "But don't tell the Aurors outside, eh?"

"Ah … okay. Do you know why I've been called here?"

"Just take a sip from the glass and I'll ask you one question," she ignored the man's question. "If the answer is no then you're free to go and maybe we can talk later."

"Fine," Arthur agreed. He took a sip and felt his mind turn to mush.

"Are you now or have you ever been a Death Eater?"

"No," Arthur replied.

"Great," Dirty Hermione said with a smile. "Give him the antidote."

"Dolores, what's –"

"We'll see you at the Manor later tonight. It's been forever since we've all had a communal dinner together, hasn't it?"

"… right. I'll tell Molly to set some extra places at the table …"

"Give her my regards. Cheerio!"

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"And that's the end of that chapter," Lily Luna announced, hefting the completed 'thing' in her hands. The long metal shaft which they'd found inside the once-buried wooden box had been successfully alchemically sealed to the head, which looked like four metallic spheres stuck together. The joining ritual had been long and complicated and worn through three elderly rune masters, and they'd had to steal another magic knife to get it done, but the 'thing' was finally whole once more, after all those centuries. Ready to do … whatever it was that it was supposed to do. She twirled it casually like a baton; it was surprisingly light for a hunk of metal double the length of her arm.

 _Why do you keep saying that?_ asked Ginny. _It doesn't make any sense._

 _Just something I heard somewhere_ , Lily Luna replied breezily. _So now that we've gone to all the trouble of making this 'thing', running up and down the length of Japan to do so, are we finally going to find out what the heck it is?_

 _I suppose you deserve to know, after all of your efforts,_ The Voice conceded. _It is an ancient and sacred weapon crafted by the kami themselves, called in its original tongue the_ _Brahmashirshāstra. It w_ _as smuggled to Mahōnihon from India many centuries ago to hide it from warring factions. In the aftermath of the Great Mahābharat War on the plains of Kurukshetra, the kingdoms and clans of northern India fell to strife and civil unrest. According to the legend, a group of monks came into possession of this weapon and decided it was far too dangerous to stay in its native land; the risk of it falling into the hands of one the warlords, or worse, one of the roving bands of mercenaries, was unacceptable. So they brought it with them on their pilgrimage to Japan. One part was buried under the cherry tree in Hokkaido we saw earlier, and the head was thought lost until recently. Rumours have been swirling for some time that the man we robbed had somehow acquired it through shady intermediaries._

 _So what exactly can this Brahma Shastra thing do?_ inquired Ginny, eyeing it curiously.

 _According to those same legends, when activated, the four spheres of the headpiece manifest huge balls of fire and lightning. They can also summon lightning and thunder from the sky, and drop meteors upon one's foes. It is said that a single blast from the_ _Brahmashirshāstra_ _will so devastate the land that nothing will grow there for decades._

 _Far out_ , Lily Luna whistled in awe. _Now I understand why that priest was so upset with us taking it. It sounds a bit like one of those muggle nuclear thingamabobs. No wonder you wanted to get your hands on it!_

 _Yes, possession of this weapon will hopefully aid our war-effort considerably. Our opponents are numerous and powerful, we will need every advantage we can obtain._

Abruptly Ginny yawned. _It's getting late, I can see the sun setting. Why don't we call it a night and get on to the next phase after we've rested a bit?_

 _Your advice is prudent,_ The Voice agreed. _That ritual took far more time than I expected. Only a fool goes into conflict unrested, if they know the time and place._

"You've been awfully quiet for a long time, kid," Tonks observed. "What are you lot pow-wowing about in there?"

"Just talking over our options," Ginny lied. "We want to crash in one of these hotels for the night," she gestured to one of Ōsaka's many fine establishments lining the street. "We can go battle it out with the bad guys in the morning. After all, that's what time turners are for!"

"And you happen to have one?"

"Sure do!" Ginny chirped, fingering the golden chain around her neck. "Never leave home without one!"

"You're a case. I'd ask how many illegal items you're carrying on your person, but I don't want to know! Alright, I'm in. Having a kip works for me," replied Nymphadora wearily. It'd be an unexpectedly trying day for the pinkette Auror. "Looks like my man isn't coming round to collect me anytime soon. Which hotel dya reckon?"

The others were in agreement. The gestalt meandered into the nearest random hotel, dragging an unresisting metamorphmagus by the arm.

"Rabu Hoteru," Lily Luna read the English portion of the sign. _Looks like the right place._

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The old man behind the counter started, stared, rubbed his eyes, and stared again. It was rare to see gaijin frequent his love hotel. Unheard of to see two women do so together. But to see two gorgeous gaijin females strut in, arm in arm, requesting his largest, finest, most comfortable room … "H – How many hours?" he managed to croak. Here was another shock: how could these degenerate foreigners speak such flawless Japanese? They even spoke in perfect Kansai dialect with the correct accent too!

The two women looked at each other in confusion. "Uh, all night?" the shorter, redheaded one offered uncertainly.

"Maybe it's different in Asia, maybe you have to pay by the hour instead of the day?" the pink-haired, taller one replied.

"Yes, that is correct," muttered the man, mopping his forehead with his handkerchief. Did somebody turn up the thermostat?

"Okay then … it's after 6pm now. Let's say, until 9am tomorrow? That's 15 hours," declared the tall one. "Given everything that's happened, I feel like taking my time."

The proprietor feel as if his heart would burst! 15 hours … such stamina! It seemed his magazines were correct that females had no refractory period, the lucky wenches.

"Taking it slow and easy is best," agreed the short one. "Gotta get up our strength for the long, hard day tomorrow."

"You think we should call your little boyfriend in to join us on our secret mission?" the pinkette asked.

"I'm not sure I'm ready to bring Harry into my crazy situation just yet," the redhead sighed.

"You worry too much," the tall one reassured her. "He won't freak out or reject you; heck, what man alive could resist? It's two girls for the price of one! Well, three I guess, if you count The Voice."

The old man silently cursed this 'Harry' gaijin for his insanely unfair good luck.

"I'll pass for the moment," the short one replied dryly. "It's hard enough for me to deal with three other women simultaneously, let alone three plus Harry."

"Oh so you've had to 'deal with' me, have you?" the pinkette huffed challengingly, hands on hips. "That's a nice thing to say to your niece!"

Niece? Susano-o's beard! The man unconsciously patted the bald head of the small bronze statue on the counter to invoke the Buddha's salvific presence.

"I calls it like I sees it," the redhead smirked.

"Oh that's it, you're sooo getting a spanked botty in public, aunt or no!"

"Nevertheless, it's staying between the four of us girls only right now," the redhead said firmly. "There'll be plenty of time to bring Harry and all the others into it later, when there isn't so much pressure."

The proprietor grasped his heart, and valiantly avoided falling off his stool like a jackass.

"How much for 15 hours in the penthouse suite?"

"16,600 yen," he muttered, numbly accepting the wad of bills from the redhead. "The room is stocked with the usual equipment and supplies. Do you desire anything beyond the standard set?" The man knew he was going to regret asking, but it was hotel policy to ensure every guest had all of their needs met.

"Equipment? Supplies?" the puzzled redhead responded. "That's unnecessary, we brought our own."

She showed the proprietor a small golden candleholder and … sweet, shining Amaterasu! A long metallic shaft with four steel balls attached to the end! The toy was almost as long as the shorter one was tall! The girl twirled it back and forth with all the ease in the world, as if she'd had long practice wielding it …

What kinds of perversion were these two intending to get up to all night long? He shook his head. By all rights he should throw these two unregenerate hussies out of his establishment immediately. What they wanted to do was wrong, and sick, and shocking, and scandalous, and degenerate, and perverted, and obscene, and sacrilegious, and probably-not-even-physically-possible, and … and how could he get in on it?

Lily Luna was concerned by how pale and sweaty the elderly man behind the counter was becoming. _Is that guy about to have a stroke? Should we summon the muggle healers?_

 _Ignore him_ , The Voice ordered disdainfully. _He is merely a typical male specimen; foolish and perverted. Let us be on our way._

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"Only one bed? I thought this was the penthouse suite?" Lily Luna complained.

"There's an awful lot of lube stocked in here," Tonks observed, rifling through the bathroom cabinet.

"And every table has a bowl full of condoms on it," Ginny added. "Guess we know what he meant by 'supplies' then."

"I always heard muggles used their hotels for hanky-panky, but I had no idea how deep or organised it all went," the pinkette mused. "What an over-randy bunch muggles are; must be all that pent-up energy from not using magic. You'd get thrown out the Leaky Cauldron in a heartbeat for even inquiring after some of this stuff."

"I'm a bit more concerned with all the animal motifs," Ginny opined, pointing queasily to the many, many, Hello Kitty stuffed toys that littered the room. The fluffy white kittens were wearing black teddies or leather harnesses, and carrying little felt whips in their adorable paws. The giant kitty picture on the king-sized bed's blanket looked like it was leering at her. "Just what are these perverted muggles into?"

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The proprietor sat behind his bank of security monitors, observing one of the screens with rare attention. He knew this was a bad idea. He knew that it violated several privacy laws and the Hoteliers' Association Code of Conduct. He knew that if he were found out, he'd lose most of his client base and be vilified in the press and by his peers. He knew that if his wife discovered what he was doing, she'd kill him both figuratively and literally. But he couldn't help himself, he just had to know.

On the screen, the smaller gaijin was now unloading her equipment onto the table and floor. The man couldn't help but be curious about what other supplies the foreign duo had brought with them. Oddly-designed robe, kimono, gloves, boots, giant metallic toy, candleholder, a strange pouch … several long, pointy wooden sticks … some sharp shards of stone … a wickedly-sharp dagger covered in what looked like dried green blood …

The man abruptly switched off the screen. Nope, he'd changed his mind. He absolutely, definitely _did not_ want to know anything more about what was going on.

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"Calm down, dodi," Carmen Zabini murmured, "else you'll crash the car into one of these trees. I think we broke the lightspeed barrier some time after crossing the border."

Said trees were speeding by the windows so fast they were naught but vague green blurs.

"It is of no matter if we crash," Eleazar Sanguini replied tightly, eyes fixed firmly ahead on the road. His knuckles were whiter than their usual pallor from the crushing grip he had on the steering wheel. The poor circle of metal already sported deep grooves from his finger clenching, and it looked more like a Christmas wreath than circular.

"It will matter as we'd have to walk the rest of the way there, and then the rest of way back to Alaska," his wife replied, slightly testily. "You may be able to outrun an automobile over short distances, but I'd like to see you make better time over 1000 miles – with me on your back, for I shall certainly not be walking the distance!"

"She's right, Eleazar," Kate piped up from the back seat. "Is it really worth losing our transport so you can find out what's going on 15 seconds earlier?"

"Slow down," Tanya agreed. "If it were a matter of extreme urgency, Carlisle would have mentioned it in his letter."

Eleazar grumbled under his breath, but couldn't directly challenge his 'mother', not on such a minor matter, and not when the rest of the Denali coven agreed with her. He reluctantly slowed the vehicle noticeably. Now the trees were rapid flashes of green that shot by, instead of a continuous green blur. The car moved quickly through the woods, faster than any human could possibly handle it over such a winding and forested alpine road. Eventually they spotted their destination, a monstrous mansion set into the top of the lonely hill, overlooking a large green meadow. Eleazar pulled into the meadow and stopped by the front porch. He was already out of the door before the car was fully stationary. The other three vampires swiftly followed suit. The immortals didn't speak as they approached the door, which opened before they could knock.

"Edward!" Tanya smiled happily at the skinny, pale-faced youth who awaited them. The child was looking awfully grim, which wasn't a good sign.

"Hello, Tanya. Kate, Eleazar, Carmen."

All five immortal undead made their perfunctory greetings. An air of tenseness and suspicion pervaded the atmosphere.

"Carlisle said he needed to talk to us right away," Tanya began bluntly. "What's the problem? Trouble with the werewolves?" Kate and Carmen flexed their muscles threateningly.

"No," the Cullen boy replied. "Our truce with the werewolves is stronger than ever."

Tanya chuckled, the sheer absurdity of this 'truce' with a group of unreliable, untrustworthy and bestial animagi never failed to amuse her sensibilities. "Aren't you going to invite us in? Where's Carlisle?"

"Carlisle had to leave."

That was a surprise. The four members of the Denali coven shared a glance. Why on earth would Carlisle summon them here on such short notice if he wasn't even going to have the politeness to actually be present? "What's going on, Edward?" she demanded.

"If you could give me the benefit of the doubt for just a few minutes, I have something difficult to explain, and I'll need you to be open-minded until you understand."

"Is Carlisle all right?" Eleazar couldn't restrain his worry any longer. The absence of the rest of the Cullen kin was very unnerving.

"None of us is all right, Eleazar," the Cullen replied, reaching out to grip the Spaniard's arm. "But physically, Carlisle is fine."

"Physically?" the Denali matriarch demanded suspiciously. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that my entire family is in very grave danger. But before I explain, I ask for your promise. Listen to everything I say before you react. I am begging you to hear me out."

That was even more ominous. The four Kindred unconsciously shifted into a defensive formation. Carmen began scanning the surrounding forest rapidly. Kate did the same for the house, vampiric senses on high alert.

"We're listening. We will hear it all before we judge," Tanya decided.

"Thank you, Tanya, we wouldn't involve you in this if we had any other choice." Edward turned and led them into the mansion.

"I knew those werewolves were involved," Tanya sniffed, smelling the air delicately.

"Yes, and they're on our side. Again."

"Where's your Bella?" Carmen piped up suddenly. "How is she?"

"She'll join us shortly. She's well, thank you. She's taken to immortality with amazing finesse."

"Tell us about the danger, Edward," Tanya broke in impatiently, uninterested in social niceties after trekking across half of the east coast of the Americas at lightning speed to get here. "We'll listen, and we'll be on your side, where we belong."

Edward took a deep breath. "I'd like you to witness for yourselves first. Listen — in the

other room. What do you hear?"

Eleazar immediately moved forward, but was blocked by Edward standing in the doorway. "Just listen first, please."

"A werewolf, I assume. I can hear his heart," mother commented dryly.

"What else?"

"What is that thrumming?" Kate inquired, ears twitching and swivelling like a cat's. "Is that ... some kind of a bird?"

"No, but remember what you're hearing. Now, what do you smell? Besides the werewolf."

"Is there a human here?" Eleazar muttered, senses straining to identify the lifeform in the next room.

"No," Tanya stated firmly. "It's not human … but ... closer to human than the rest of the scents here. What is that, Edward? I don't think I've ever smelled that fragrance before."

"You most certainly have not, Tanya. Please, please remember that this is something entirely new to you. Throw away your preconceived notions."

"I promised you I would listen, Edward."

"All right, then. Bella? Bring out Renesmee, please."

Eleazar recognised Edward's wife and the werewolf animagus guarding her rear from her and Edward's wedding several months back. But within her arms … oh sweet Cid! _A vampire child! These meshuggene morons have had the unbelievable chutzpah to sire a vampire baby, the most forbidden of all forbidden acts!_ Eleazar sprang backwards a good three feet and took a defensive stance, vaguely aware that the other members of his family had done the same. Carmen was right beside him as always, and he immediately slipped in front of his wife as a vampiric bodyshield. Braced himself for the vile berserker's inevitable attack and orgy of blood-violence …

"Oh please," the werewolf snorted, folding his burly, hairy arms in contempt.

Edward put his arm protectively around Bella. "You promised to listen," he chided sharply.

"Some things cannot be heard! How could you, Edward? Do you not know what this means?"

Eleazar nodded in full agreement with his vampiric mother.

"We have to get out of here," Kate urged, inching gradually back towards the front door.

"Edward ..." Eleazar couldn't seem to find the correct words to describe what in Lolth's name was spinning through his undead mind.

"Wait!" the Cullen snapped. "Remember what you hear, what you smell. Renesmee is not what you think she is!"

"There are no exceptions to this rule, Edward," Tanya growled stepping forward. Kate and Eleazar swiftly moved to cover her flanks. She was right: the two foundational, unalterable laws of the Kindred were, never expose yourself or your kind to mundanes, and never, ever turn a child. Carmen held herself close, moulding her svelte frame firmly to his back, left hand gripping his waist in what on a human would have been of bone-crushing pressure. Her head peeked over his shoulder, taking in everything.

"Tanya, you can hear her heartbeat! Stop and think about what that means."

"Her heartbeat?" his wife whispered in his ear.

"She's not a full vampire child," Edward insisted. He turned to face Eleazar and Camen imploringly. "She's half-human. Hear me: Renesmee is one of a kind. I am her father. Not her creator — her _biological father_."

This was absolutely insane. Never in Eleazar's 300 years in the Olam ha-Zeh had he ever heard something so profoundly ridiculous. There had to be another angle to all this. Where was Carlisle? What the hell kind of game were the Cullens playing? "Edward, you can't expect us to —"

"Tell me another explanation that fits, Eleazar! You can feel the warmth of her body in

the air. Blood runs in her veins, Eleazar. You can smell it!"

"How!?" Kate demanded.

"Bella is her biological mother. She conceived, carried, and gave birth to Renesmee while she was still human. It nearly killed her. I was hard-pressed to get enough venom into her heart to save her."

"I've never heard of such a thing," Eleazar shook his head firmly. What this loco trio was suggesting was impossible.

"Physical relationships between vampires and humans are not common. Human survivors of such trysts are even less common. Wouldn't you agree, cousins? Come now, Eleazar. Surely you can see the resemblance ..."

Carmen Zabini abruptly detached herself from her husband's back and slipped around him. Eleazar made a half-hearted attempt to grab her waist, hold her back from that … abomination, but she was too quick. In a flash, she was in front of It.

"You seem to have your mother's eyes, but your father's face," Carmen agreed.

"Do you mind if Renesmee tells you about it herself? She has a gift for explaining things." Cullen's black-haired waif-of-a-spouse spoke for the first time. Bella Swan. How in the name of the Cid was she able to carry such a being to term?

"Do you speak, little one?" Carmen smiled at It.

"Yes, but I can show you more than I can tell you," It spoke in a chilling, high-pitched voice, nestled in Bella's icy arms.

 _It can speak, even as an infant!_ Eleazar had to repress the shudders he could feel rippling through his body. It was like listening to sharp claws rake against glass. Eleazar could only watch in horror as It placed a tiny hand onto his wife's face, watch her sudden flinch. Faster than the thought could form he was beside Carmen, hands gripping her shoulders, ready to drag her out into the meadow, far far from this abominable monstrosity!

"Wait!" his wife commanded, and Eleazar found himself freezing unconsciously. Carmen was always devilishly hard to say no to when she used that tone.

"What's Nessie showing her?" the werewolf – Jacob something or other, Eleazar vaguely remembered – interjected.

 _Nessie,_ thought Eleazar, _a most appropriate name for a terrifying Monster._

"Everything," Edward answered, though he didn't elaborate on what in blazes he meant by that!

"She really _is_ your daughter, isn't she?" Carmen suddenly said, as the two broke skin contact. "Such a vivid gift! It could only have come from a very gifted father."

"Do you believe what she showed you?"

"Without a doubt," Carmen replied to the child's father.

"Carmen!" Eleazar snapped, urging her desperately to flee with him; they needed to get distance from all this – a couple hundred miles should do the trick! Then they could plan and work out what the hell could be done to salvage this balagan.

But his wife gainsaid him implacably. Taking his cold hands into her similarly icy ones, Carmen looked into his yellow eyes and insisted, "Impossible as it seems, Edward has told you nothing but truth. Let the child show you." She used her grip to pull her husband by the hands over to It. The wooden floorboards screamed in protest as his locked legs tore and scratched through them as his wife firmly dragged him forward against his will. "Show him, mi querida."

The Thing reached out and poked Eleazar on the forehead, unleashing a torrent of images directly into his mind. "Ay caray!" he leaped backwards to break contact, head whirling from all the new information that spun and wheeling crazily through his thoughts.

"What did she do to you?" Tanya bellowed, by his side in an instant, holding him up while he staggered dizzily.

"She's just trying to show you her side of the story," Carmen whispered to him. She reached out and dragged him back before The Thing.

"Watch, please," It huffed in its terrifying high voice, and held out her hand once more.

Eleazar threw another desperate, quizzical glance to his wife who moved her hands in the all-clear signal. _In for a knut, in for a galleon, I suppose_ , he sighed ruefully to himself. _Never can say no to the señora. That mamacita is going to be the death and eternal damnation in gehenna of me one of these decades!_ He drew a deep, steadying breath and allowed the abomination to touch him once more. And his mind exploded into a whorl of colours, thoughts and images.

.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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Professor Kikyō, Headmistress of Mahōtokoro, led her charges out of their audience with the Shōwa-Emperor-in-Council in a daze. "Well," she muttered, "that was certainly … unusual."

"Unusual? How in the name of Orochi's eight heads did the Emperor know who you were?!" her number one student and crown jewel of Mahōtokoro Hi-no-Kagutsuchi Naho pouted fiercely.

"Don't let it worry you. It's me, I'm extremely famous," Peter Pettigrew the Lord of House Malfoy and the Emperor's newest daimyō jibed.

"For what? What could you possibly have done to have brought yourself so prominently to the Emperor's notice? You've never been to Nihon before have you?" Naho demanded.

"Ahhh no idea. And no, I've never been to Japan before," Pettigrew shrugged, nose twitching in a very mouse-like manner.

"It must have been something – the Emperor does not just award honorary daimyō rank and then offer the hand of his granddaughter, the only daughter of the Crown Prince, to a complete stranger! Even more so a gaijin who has been in Nihon for no more than a few days!" Kikyō's favourite student paced around in agitation.

"And why not?" demanded Lily Luna. "Peter's pretty awesome all around!"

"Thanks Elle. In any case, I wasn't the only one honoured – I think congratulations are in order to Naho, for being invested as the Emperor's formal representative to the wild regions. And we all received formal authorisation as resident foreigners. How about a cup of sake to cheers our success?"

"I don't think you understand," Kikyō shook her head firmly. "This is absolutely unprecedented. For the Emperor to invest you as a daimyō is unusual in the extreme, but explainable since you are already a lord of similar rank in your own country. But for him to offer you Nori-no-miya Sayako Naishinnō as a bride … one would think that the Shōwa Emperor owed you a Life Debt or some such similar obligation! That is the only reason I can think of, unless he wishes to establish a formal blood-alliance with your House."

Kikyō tuned out the children's squabbling in favour of some pacing (i.e., floating) back and forth of her own. There were factors at work he that she didn't understand, currents that were hidden to her. If there was one thing the 1000-year old ghost hated besides evildoers, it was being bewildered by something. Her furious thinking was interrupted as she felt the Palace's wards shudder. _That was … most unusual._ They trembled again, harder. There was no doubt about it, the wards were definitely under assault from without.

She dematerialised and reappeared on top of the highest point of the highest rooftop of the highest pagoda of the palace, daintily balancing on one foot on the tip of the spire. Her sharp eyes scanned the horizon, taking in the hordes of white-skinned enemies that surrounded the palace complex on all four sides. She watched in horror as the mighty imperial wards, the product of generation upon generation of the finest wardsmiths, trembled and disintegrated in front of her undead eyes. Worse was to come. The high stone walls that protected them exploded in two dozen places simultaneously, and hordes of pale, human-like creatures swarmed into the palace complex, ripping through stone and wood as if they were rice paper. The guards, mundane and magical were quickly overwhelmed. With triumphant cries, the fell beasts raced towards Kyōto Palace, and the Magical Council.

Kikyō teleported back to the room she had just left. "The walls have been breached! Kyōto Palace is under attack!" she informed the children.

"Our foes are mighty indeed to have been able to breach imperial wards of such power!" Naho growled in reply, staring out the window.

"I will go find the Emperor." Kikyō instructed her charges, "Arm yourselves – we must protect the Magical Council!" She disappeared once more, transporting herself into the Emperor's throne room that their party had vacated not 15 minutes beforehand.

"Your Majesty?!" she called loudly. The room appeared deserted.

"They already left, Your High Headmistressness," piped an irreverent voice.

Whirling around, the ancient ghost realised shed' been mistaken: the room was _almost_ deserted. Behind her, sprawled blasphemously out over the Throne of Amaterasu lay a tall, athletic woman whose hair was styled into sharp, pink spikes. The gaijin woman saluted insouciantly.

"You don't need to worry about the Grand Poobah, Pettigrew and his cronies have already taken care of your Mikado," the woman drawled.

Kikyō's eyebrow raised. The boy and his friends were mere children, even by mortal standards, and hadn't even left their room when the assault started. She'd had to give them all a verbal kick to even get them moving in the first place!

"I would've come to find you sooner, but we had to wait for the wards to collapse before we could apparate around the Palace."

"Is that so?" she asked skeptically. She was about to disappear to continue her search when the witch forestalled her.

"Figured you wouldn't take my word for it, so a friend of mine put ink to parchment this morning and wrote you out a message explaining everything that's going on." She withdrew the scroll from her kimono and brandished it proudly.

"Give me the short summation," Kikyō said flatly.

"No can do, neither I nor my friend can understand kanji." She tossed the scroll to ghost, who caught it effortlessly with one hand, not once breaking their locked gaze.

"Then how did your friend compose this missive in the first place?"

"Just read the scroll, it explains everything," the woman insisted.

Although she was anxious to be on her way, Kikyō decided to humour this interloper for a moment. The message might actually be relevant. Or it could be an extremely tasteless and poorly-timed practical joke. Unrolling the scroll, she scanned it at high speed. Froze. Returned to the beginning and began reading the halting, uncertain calligraphy again, very carefully.

 _Gotcha!_ thought Nymphadora triumphantly. _Damn I'm good!_ Convincing The Voice to use Lily Luna's hands to write out the entire affair in formal kanji was one of the metamorphmagus' more inspired ideas, she felt. Made explanations of all their adventures today (Merlin, was it really still just the same day?) so much faster and easier for all concerned. Plus The Voice had added all sorts of useful information and background detail to prove the veracity of the scroll's contents. At least, Tonks hoped so.

The scroll was very long and covered in tiny kanji, but the ghost speed-read with phenomenal speed. After her fifth reading, the tall Japanese Professor nodded firmly, placed the scroll into her pocket and announced, "I understand. Miss Tonks, I will assist you and Miss Potter in carrying out your mission. Let us away – where to first?"

"Can you follow my apparition trail?"

"Yes."

"Then up, up and away!" With a pop! Nymphadora apparated to the large changing room that held the party's belongings. She quickly led Kikyō into Harry's bag of holding. "Don't mind the Dementors," she said apologetically, as they hurried down a high-vaulted corridor. "They're on our side … for the moment, anyway."

Kikyō's flawless face twisted into a sneer of disgust at the herd of floating Nazgûl. "Why are you consorting with demons, little human? Such will only bring you suffering and ruin."

"Not my idea," shrugged the metamorphmagus. "You can vanquish every man-jack of them if you want, no skin off my perfect button nose. Kiddo! We're here, find anything good!?"

"Better than good," Ginny's voice declared from behind a door. Entering, the pair could see the Scarlet-haired Witch(es) leaning over the head on an enormous orange stone golem, a fierce grin on her face as she waved her wand in complex sequences. "I've found Robbie the Robot. Merlin bless you, Hermione, I know that this is somehow your doing!"

"What is that monster?" asked Kikyō.

"Only the pride and joy of the British Auror Academy," Tonks breathed, eyes wide. "How in Mordred's name did you lot get ahold of him?"

Ginny shrugged. "Dunno, don't care. Help me activate him! Harry only gave me the bare bones about this thing's operating system. We don't have long before the others arrive."

Tonks knelt down next to the girl and helped her to charge the correct runic code sequence to turn the beast on. With a sudden shudder, the orange humanoid opened its eyes which began to glow with an ominous yellow light.

"Okay, Robbie: freeform mode, no set training program or fighting style. Full improvisation. Obey all commands from myself and the two women next to me, nobody else for the duration of the session. Do you understand?" Tonks crossed her fingers internally, as the giant head swivelled to regard her.

After a moment of silent consideration, * _Robbie understands. Instructions accepted.*_ It replied in a deep, low growl.

Tonks sighed in relief. "Follow us! To the field of battle!"

The golem rumbled in assent, and slowly got to its feet. Standing at full height, it was three times Nymphadora's six-foot-two-inches.

"What's that?" Ginny cocked her head to the side, listening to sounds no-one else could hear. "Well, if you're sure …" The girl withdrew the Jikan o Rōhi Suru ka no Kyandoruhorudā and blew on it. The candle ignited in mysterious blue flames.

Kikyō gasped at the sight of the ancient and powerful shintai, then caught herself. "I suppose I should not be surprised, considering," she murmured to herself.

The crimson-haired witch carried the candleholder over to the golem. "Bend down, Robbie," she instructed. When the creature's head was at roughly head-height for the girl, she held up the candle and blew out the flame. The purple wisps of smoke surrounded Robbie's head, before absorbing into its rocky orange skin. There was silence for a moment.

"Did it work?" Ginny asked tentatively.

Robbie slowly straightened. Its eye-colour was morphing from a hard yellow to a cold, ethereal blue blaze. Slowly it began to pivot its head, stretch its arms this way and that, and march on the spot.

 _*Yes. I have successfully achieved control.*_ Robbie sounded a lot more feminine than before. _*Speed and dexterity will improve with practice. Now let us away.*_

"Good – you'd better take this; I don't think anyone more fragile than you wants to be anywhere near The Weapon," commented Ginny, passing the Brahmashirshāstra into its huge orange hand. "You're the only one who even knows how to turn the 'On' switch on!"

"Ah yes, now I understand," Kikyō asserted, as the foursome ran to the entrance of the bag and back out into the changing room. "Ingenious."

"Then could you explain it to me?" demanded Tonks. "What the hell happened to Robbie? He sounds like Hestia Jones! And his eyes were never blue!"

"Spirits and kami have the ability to possess living beings and the undead who still carry souls," the Professor explained. They passed clusters of panicking officials, who scattered out of the group's way as they hurried by. Having an 18-foot orange behemoth running along behind them may have had something to do with it. "What is less well-known is that these disembodied entities can also control artefacts that have been enchanted to be able to think and act autonomously. For example, magic mirrors, animated statues, guardian suits of armour …"

"… and golems!" Tonks finished.

"Only high-performance golems such as your Robbie here; mindless brutes that are summoned or bent quickly or sloppily would not have sufficient cognitive abilities to provide enough of a handhold (or rather, mindhold) for the possessor," Kikyō corrected.

The four burst out of the main palace entrance and into the gardens. Gardens that were swarming with the undead.

 _*I shall go first!*_ growled Robbie the Robot. _*Stay behind me and in my wake!*_

"It's clobberin' time!" agreed Tonks boisterously.

True to its word, The Wrecking Ball launched its orange body forward, blindingly fast for such a lumbering hulk of stone and metal. Uncounted numbers of the Inferii scattered or fell before the orange freight-train like bowling pins. Tonks and Lily Luna/Ginny sprinted into the hole in the enemy ranks that it had opened up; panting, they had great trouble matching its pace. Kikyō floated serenely in the rear, driving off any stragglers who tried to flank the golem and pick off the two humans. The Headmistress punched, kicked and threw all-comers aside, smashing through them with inhuman strength.

"Where … are we … going?" panted Lily Luna.

"Anywhere … but right in the middle … of these things … would be good," gasped Tonks. She swung her wand up and banished a half-dozen of the closest zombies.

 _*We go to take out the command post!*_ Robbie boomed. _*Leaderless, these walking dead will be easy pickings!*_

.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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Bellatrix Black looked down from her high point to survey the scenes of war below her. As far as the eye could see, the defenders were falling back into disarray, and the protective barriers collapsed in the onrush of white zombie death at her command. She threw her head back and cackled with every burning fibre of her fiery, Valkyrie soul.

"A word of caution, young Black," one of her allies warned. "One who fights a battle should never celebrate until after they have removed their armour. In every conflict, no matter how minor, no matter how close victory appears to be, there are always some factors that you cannot account for. These are the unexpected twists of fate that you must be ever-ready to adapt to."

Bellatrix eyed her two colleagues, clad in black robes with bold red cloud symbols emblazoned over them. One of whom resembled a bodybuilder who'd become stuck halfway through a human-to-shark self-transfiguration. Blue skin, sharklike grin plastered on his chiselled face, blank empty fisheyes, a series of gills down his cheeks and neck. Spines and sharp scales on every bit of visible flesh. In his hand he clutched an enormous sword wrapped tightly in white bandages. Hoshigaki Kisame, the Monster of the Hidden Mist, the Tailless Tailed Bijū, one of the former Seven Swordsmen, one of the Akatsuki elite. The shark-man's assistant was far more normal-looking. A shock of spiky greying black hair, and sporting a stylish orange mask with a whirlpool-spiral motif. The only other feature of the mask being a single, right eye-hole revealing a glowing red-and-black pupil. A dogsbody referred to only as 'Tobi'.

They'd had little time to talk in the weeks since she'd arrived in the wild regions. Too many preparations to make, too much training to do. These Akatsuki elite were always cloistered away, plotting with the Dark Lords Voldemort and Grindelwald. She knew these strange wizards performed their magic entirely wandlessly, a mind-bending concept for the pureblood scion of Black. Instead every spell was done through incantations and hand-seals, weird hand gestures that stimulated one's magical core to do one's bidding. Bellatrix was desperately keen to learn these techniques; once mastered, she'd never be helpless without a wand again!

The garrison of Inferii bodyguards raised a cry of alarm, before the forward contingent exploded in all directions as a powerful Blasting Curse shredded the white creatures. Rocks and flesh fell in all directions.

"What in Merlin's name was that!?" she shrieked.

"That would be the factor we could not account for," Tobi said dryly. "And right on time, too."

Bellatrix's adrenaline kicked in, fire and excitement pumped through her arteries. Wand in hand, she advanced on the gaping hole in their lines left by the fleeing, useless white zombies. Bellowing her battle cry, she leaped forward, wand outstretched –

– and was backhanded 30 feet by a giant orange blur. "Ooofff!" Her back slammed into a tree. The world swirled and swum and whirled around her.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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Robbie the Robot plowed through Bellatrix as if she were a mildly irritating blade of crab-grass. The next second, the Auror-training golem was 20 feet forward and launching a mighty haymaker into the shark-ninja's face. Which was countered by an equally mighty block from Kisame's greatsword. The ground seemed to shudder at the force of the impact.

Tonks and Ginny/Lily Luna followed the trail of carnage to the scene. Tonks was the first to recover her breath, being well used to heavy cardio sessions. Her wand flicked up and transfigured the surrounding corpses into two dire-wolves and two vultures. The four creatures hurled themselves at the ninja in the orange mask, snarling and snapping viciously.

To the Auror's shock, the transfigured animals passed straight through their opponent and out the other side as if he weren't even there. Braying in confusion, the four animals reversed their tracks and tried again, to similar results. Ginny's _Flammasectum_ likewise went through the Akatsuki's body like mist.

"Is this guy an illusion?" Ginny demanded.

Her question that was answered in the negative a second later, as Tobi's fist slammed into her gut. At the same moment, his foot struck Tonks' skull. The two magical girls tumbled backwards into dizzy heaps.

Shaking off her pounding headache, Tonks sprang to her feet and brought her wand to bear on the orange-masked ninja. "Mother always said I was hardheaded," she quipped grimly. "So you can shrug off transfigurations and elemental attacks, can you? Let's see how you handle pure magical offensives!" Her wand pirouetted and pliéed. A mist of thousands of silver snowflakes poured out of its tip.

Tobi hastily backed away from the loose cloud of threatening energies. The two beasts and two birds fell upon him again, third time was a charm right? Unfortunately they were again unable to gain purchase, every bite and slash slipping unresistingly through his flesh like a phantom. With four brisk slashes of his dagger, Tobi reduced the transfigured creatures back to their constituent components. He leaped forward knifepoint-first to do likewise to Tonks' tender flesh.

Right into Kikyō's fist. The ghost returned to visibility half a foot in front of the metamorphmagus. Surprising Tonks, the Headmistress's haymaker did not pass harmlessly through the ninja's body, but impacted his face with the force of a freight-train. With a howl of agony, the man was hurled back head-first into the nearest boulder, which shattered upon impact.

A bow and arrow materialised in the ancient ghost's hands. She fired arrow after arrow at her downed foe, the arrowheads glowing with an eerie purple luminescence. Tobi ducked and dodged and weaved around the missiles. Once she'd run through the last of her arsenal in her quiver, the ninja leaped into the air and flew directly at the hovering Professor. The two floating adversaries thrust and parried with fist and dagger, ascending high above the treetops.

" _Incendio!_ "

Without looking, Tobi dodged the fireball Nymphadora had special-delivered to his head. But the momentary distraction allowed Kikyō to get the drop on him. With blinding speed the ghost immobilised the shinobi, one hand clenched around his throat, the other crushing his right wrist, forcing him to drop his kunai blade.

His single eye widened at the necromantic vortex swirling around this being. Then it narrowed, and his red eye began to glow with chakra. Strange, arcane shapes danced within. The two opponents stared into each others' eyes for a long minute, red against black.

"You seek to control me," Kikyō sneered. "I am no weak-minded spirit that your bloodline magics can possess, I existed long before your ancestors first picked up a kunai ..." She grunted. "You cannot flee from my grip; your timespace jutsus are useless against me, little mortal!"

Tobi responded by slapping his free hand onto her chest, sticking there a half-dozen pieces of parchment with kanji scrawled over them. The ghost's eyes widened. A second later, the parchments detonated, hiding both from view as a black cloud of smoke blew outwards from the impact point. The shockwave knocked the four other combatants to the ground. A flock of leaves kicked up into the air.

Tobi reappeared 50 feet away. He threw away the charred ashes of his Akatsuki robe, but seemed otherwise unaffected by the explosion. The Professor, on the other hand, dropped to the ground like a stone. The huge gaping hole in her torso quickly refilled itself with ectoplasm, but her entire left arm and shoulder were missing, blown clean off. She regained her footing, panting with the exertion, grimacing in pain. Pressing his advantage, the orange-masked figure pounced on her from on high. "My turn!" he snarled, landing a direct kick into her sternum. The Headmistress was hurled away into the trees and out of sight.

While the two flyers duked it out in the air above them, Lily Luna/Ginny groaned and returned to the world of the living. Quickly making her way to the pinkette's side, she said, "I'm going after the fish-thing!"

She ran towards Kisame, Tonks half-a-step behind. The Akatsuki was engaged in the world's strangest bout of fisticuffs with the Auror-bot. The blue and orange blurs repeatedly threw themselves against each other.

The ninja's sword parried a blow that would take off a mundane's head, then twisted with serpentine grace to slam into Robbie's side, the force knocking the golem back. With a dismayed growl, The Wrecking Ball lost its footing and rolled backwards.

"Morgana, those two are fast!" Lily Luna gasped.

"My sword is fast," Kisame agreed, turning to face the two witches, "and hungry! What a hungry little sword you are, Samehada!"

Robbie was up again in a flash, stepping protectively between the Akatsuki and the girls.

 _This guy looks like a partial shark self-transfiguration; like Victor Krum's form during the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament,_ Ginny analysed.

 _You'll have to tell me all about it sometime,_ Lily Luna replied.

Beaming his sharklike grin, The Monster of the Hidden Mist carefully and deliberately removed the white bandages from his blade. Ginny/Lily Luna gasped. The sword was like none they'd ever seen: a mass of sharp blue scales that shivered and pulsed and raised and lowered and rattled. Instead of tapering into a sharp point, it expanded into a large, drooling mouth that grinned the same sharklike grin as its master. Samehada gave a half-moan half-sigh and stretched its scales.

"There! Now we can play properly. _Suiton – daibakusui shōha!_ Water jutsu – colliding wave explosion attack!"

A tidal wave of conjured seawater washed over them. The golem was immovable in the face of the onslaught, but the two witches were not so implacable. Spluttering, Ginny and Tonks were washed away in the flood.

 _Après moi, le déluge!_ Lily Luna thought sourly, as their face broke the surface and gulped down sweet, life-giving air.

 _What's that?_ asked Ginny.

 _Not important! What_ is _important is that this grindylow's-goitre is a water bender!_ cried Lily Luna. _Guess that explains his transfiguration._ The girls cast the Bubble-Head Charm on themselves.

 _How is this guy able to conjure up so much water? It's like a million_ aquamentis _at once!_

 _10 to 1 this is one of those Merlin-be-damned S-class ninjas Professor Maniaku was telling us about! Of all the rotten luck …_

" _Suiton – suikōdan no jutsu!_ Water jutsu – water shark missile attack!"

The water churned, and suddenly was filled with clear liquid-sharks. Their jaws snapped hungrily as they swam for the witches.

"Eeeek! _Levicorpus!_ "

Lily Luna felt something seize her ankle, and the next moment they were airborne. Arms flailing wildly, the girls landed hard in the top of a tree, branches bending and breaking around them.

 _What happened?_ asked a dazed Lily Luna. Another splash, and a heavy wet shape landed on top of them. "Oof!"

Shoving the sodden body off her, Ginny discovered a dishevelled and ashen-faced Nymphadora, her usual pink mane now a sickly greeny-grey colour.

"Sharks," Tonks muttered in a shaken tone, "why'd it have to be Great White Sharks?"

Robbie had not been unmindful of their plight. The golem tore the nearest tree out of the ground (that didn't contain witches), roots and all, and used it to club the shinobi into the mud like a hammer driving in a nail. The shark transfigurations immediately dissipated, and the rushing waters began to drain away.

With a great splash, Kisame appeared on the opposite side of the clearing, his ever-present grin plastered over his blue face. "You are indeed persistent foes, yet you cannot win!" the shark-ninja crowed, his pointy teeth snapping in fierce joy. "Samehada and I are as one! We get stronger in direct proportion to how strong our opponent is. We don't get tired, we can't be defeated. The longer the battle goes on the more worn down you get; but the more worn down you get, the stronger it makes me! Samehada absorbs all chakra and invigorates me with it. That's why they call me the Tailless Tailed Bijū!"

 _*So physical attacks only then,*_ drawled Robbie, as it took a boxing stance.

The two combatants danced around each other, jabbing, uppercutting and kicking in a blur of motion too fast for the mundane eye to follow. It was quickly clear they were stalemated. Kisame's claws and greatsword bounced off the golem's orange hide, sparks flying, and Kisame's reinforced blue skin shrugged off the golem's blows like water droplets. Samehada struck and bit viciously at Robbie, but could not consume the magics powering the behemoth, locked far beneath its stone exoskeleton.

A new approach was clearly needed. Springing away, The Wrecking Ball reached down to its utility belt and extracted the Brahmashirshāstra, pointing the head directly at the fishlike creature.

"You wish to test my words?!" Kisame bellowed in glee. "Come for me then! Samehada will absorb every single drop of your weapon's chakra! And then your own." Taking a solid stance, legs wide, knees bent, feet firmly planted, the shark-wizard pointed his sword at Robbie and braced himself. "Usually Samehada doesn't get so excited, your pretty toy must be exceptional," the ninja grinned. He licked his lips with a long indigo tongue. The sword pulsed and chittered eagerly. "Killing you will be fun."

They made an odd pair, facing each other head on from opposite sides of the plateau and pointing their respective weapons directly at the other. An Old West-style showdown between a seven-foot tall half-man half-shark, and an 18-foot tall stone orange thing.

Robbie the Robot chanted strings of indecipherable arcane syllables. The Brahmashirshāstra began to glow with an ominous, eldritch red glow. The four spheres of its head morphed into four heads, whose eyes and mouths slowly opened. Eight eyes and four wide mouths zeroed in on Kisame and his Samehada. The air hummed with power. With a deafening peal of thunder, balls of fire exploded from the headpiece, followed by a long torrent of white-hot flame that twisted and turned and poured inexorably towards Kisame.

The wall of magic slammed into the sword. Samehada's wide, toothy mouth opened and began gulping down the magics with gusto. The chakra flowed through it, down its handle and into its master. Both ninja and sword began to glow with a deep red aura.

Samehada swelled, doubling then tripling in length and width, bloated with the enormous amounts of magical energy it was consuming. Its spines shivered and stood erect, expanding larger and larger. The sword began to glow white-hot and the moisture in the air around it sizzled and hissed. The pools and puddles of water on the ground evaporated into steam. Every blade of grass and green leaf near them withered into ash. High above them, the white fluffy clouds were dissolving away. And still the column of flame poured out from The Weapon into the sword's gaping, toothy mouth, with increasing intensity. Kisame was gradually sliding backwards, gouts of red and white flame swirling about his body, his heels gouging great tears in the stony ground as he dug himself in further. "I've never seen Samehada get this big!"

"Gah! Talk about a steam-bath!" Tonks coughed.

With a defiant yell, the shark-ninja pushed back against the irresistible force. Samehada, now six times its ordinary size, began to crack under the strain. Hairline fractures, like glowing yellow spiderwebs sprouted across its scales.

"Flee you fool, it is too much for you to swallow!" Tobi flew at his comrade with the speed of a bullet and gripped Kisame on the shoulder, ready to teleport them both to safety in an instant. And suddenly felt an ice-cold hand seize his throat once more.

"You treasonous curs won't be apparating anywhere," Kikyō hissed. Clenching her single iron, undead hand around Tobi's neck, her legs flipped up with liquid speed to clamp around Kisame's neck. Locking them both on this timespace plane.

Tobi grunted and strained with effort to break free of the ghost's trap.

"You like sucking down chakra?" the undead spirit growled. "Then suck on this! NOW!"

The Brahmashirshāstra gave a mighty roar, and its brightness and the size of its flames increased tenfold. Thunder pealed. All but Robbie desperately shielded their eyes from the blaze of a million suns. The ground trembled and shook. The very air crackled and sparked with static. Deep cracks tore open the earth around them. With single, agonised shriek, Samehada shattered into tiny, red-hot fragments, the immense reserves of chakra stored within its, and Kisame's, bodies released in all directions in a sudden, uncontrolled tsunami.

As the torrent of wild magic swept towards them, Tonks dived forward, grabbing hold of the younger girl. The tide slammed into them. The tree's trunk shattered and they began to topple. Tonks desperately side-along apparated the pair to the last safe place she remembered. With a pop, the world spun away.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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Bellatrix howled in pain and fury as she ricocheted from branch to branch, tree to tree, stone to stone, a helpless leaf in the wind, tossed around by the force of the Brahmashirshāstra's mighty blast. Eventually the concussion wave dissipated, and she dropped insensate onto the ground.

An aeon of darkness and silence later, the black-haired witch groaned and blinked her eyes. Painfully dragging herself upright via the assistance of a nearby tree, she leaned back on her helper and tried to regain her faculties. After a while, her head cleared and she was able to walk without staggering. A series of _Episkey_ spells fixed up the worst of the bleeding, and a couple of crude bone-mending charms sorted out the fractures in her ribs and arm. Flexing her aching muscles, the girl started to make her slow, painful way back towards the palace. Apparition was very dangerous for people with concussion to attempt, so her two legs would have to suffice for now. At least finding her way would be no problem. Even in the midst of the surrounding forest, scrying the direction of her destination was simplicity itself – all one had to do was follow the giant plumes of black smoke reaching towards the heavens, like the pillar of cloud in the Sinai desert.

Growling her promises of bloody revenge on the ones who'd done this to her, she extracted one of her spare wands from its thigh holster. After half an hour of trekking through the scrub, the sound of distant voices reached her ears. Creeping stealthily up the nearest hill, the dark witch peeked her head over the summit and peered down at the approaching party. A fierce grin drew back her lips. Looks like her lucky planet Mars was with her today after all! It seemed another crop of Hogwarts' dunderheaded students had been foolish enough to follow her and her masters to this Merlin-forsaken barbarian land. It was now up to Bellatrix to demonstrate to them the full extent of such foolishness. Starting with that traitorous, muggle-loving, House-usurping so-called Lord Black, Peter Pettigrew. Lining up her shot, she unleashed a wave of black fire directly at her most hated foe.

Cries of dismay. The ants scattered before her flames. Yes, run, run away before the _true_ family magics of House Black! Leaping to her feet, Bellatrix launched bolt after bolt of dark flames upon the insects. Oh yes, this was living. This was truly living!

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The two women tumbled onto the bed in which they'd spent the previous night.

"We did it!" Tonks gasped.

"We're alive!" agreed Ginny.

Seizing each other in a fierce hug of triumph, the two victors rolled back and forth laughing that near-hysterical laugh of those who'd escaped fiery, mortal peril by the skin of their teeth. After about 10 minutes of working the adrenaline out of their systems, the two shaken friends let go and sat up …

… to notice the middle-aged Japanese man and woman standing stock-still at the other end of the penthouse suite; eyes fixed in glazed, unseeing shock at the sight of two hysterical gaijin appearing in a puff in their private room. Well, it would be more accurate to say the woman was standing while the man was hogtied on all fours. It would be even more accurate to say that the woman was sitting on his back riding him like a horsie.

"Er … don't mind us! We're just, uh, the room inspectors' union. Let us know if any little thing about your stay does not satisfy you! Cheerio!" Tonks dragged Lily Luna/Ginny out of the suite.

The two dishevelled girls staggered out of the love hotel clinging to each other for support, hair smoking and sticking out wildly in all directions. Looking like the sole survivors of a flaming offshore oil-rig sinking. They blithely ignored the stares and pointing fingers. With a half-hearted wave to the proprietor (who did fall off his stool this time), they reached the street and found the nearest bench. Sagged against each other to stay upright.

"I feel like I've singed my eyebrow and eyelashes off," Lily Luna finally said.

"Me too," Tonks grinned.

"They haven't have they?"

The metamorphmagus merely smirked and refused to answer.

"Do you think everything's calmed down over there by now?"

"Best give it another 10 minutes," the Auror answered sensibly. "Give the dust time to settle, and us a bit of time to get our heads on straight."

They were quiet for a while.

"Such monsters," Lily Luna whispered. "I thought this'd be a grand adventure y'know?"

"What do you mean?"

"They were nearly too much for us," the crimsonhead brooded, a bit morosely. "Even with Professor Kikyō and Robbie and The Weapon helping, they almost won. And that was only _two of them_! What are we going to do about all the rest? Aren't there armies of these ninja massing out there in the wild regions?"

"We'll figure something out. We've made it this far, right? There's nowhere to go but up."

"I guess," she said dubiously, teeth worrying her pouty lower lip.

"Buck up, kiddo! Whatever happens you're not alone. You two have each other at the very least, so you're never without backup! That's a plus. You also have The World's Greatest Auror and her sidekick the Once-a-Potential-Worst-Dark-Lord-of-All-Time-but-Now's-a-Really-Great-Guy-who's-Kinda-a-Goofball-but-has-a-Heart-of-Gold-when-You-Get-Right-Down-to-it-and-Won't-Let-You-Down, beside you. That's another plus. And from what we know of his dad, my Uncle Peter, there's nothing the Great Gerbil and his friends can't succeed at when they put their minds to it."

"I s'pose you're right …"

"Of course I'm right, I'm Nymphadora Chrysandrabella Tonks!"

"I stand corrected," a giggle worming its way involuntarily from the corner of the girl's mouth.

Following Auror protocol, the pinkette began to automatically check her equipment. "I've lost my wand," she complained.

"Me too," agreed Ginny. She reached into her mokeskin pouch and extracted one of her spares, strapping it into her wrist-holster.

"So you keep spares eh?"

"Never leave Britain without 'em, right?"

"A kid after my own heart!" Tonks agreed, strapping in her own spare. "Ready to mop up whatever's left of 'em and squeeze it into the chum-bucket called Aufwiedersehen?"

"You know it!"

A pop later and the two-ish bruised and battered but mostly unharmed women looked around the smoking, devastated crater. The giant steam cloud had dissipated. Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. They winced at the intensity of the residual magic that still hummed in the air. Ginny could well believe that no vegetation would grow here for decades.

She cast a _Tempus_ spell. "That fight sure was over fast."

"What do you mean, kiddo?"

"I mean, all the time we took and effort we went to to collect and assemble The Weapon, and then in the blink of an eye it's over and done with. It sure _felt_ like a lot longer, but in reality the whole battle was over in less than 15 minutes."

 _*That is the usual way of war. For every week of preparation, you may only see a minute of actual combat. A good soldier ensures that every battle is as concise and one-sided in their favour as possible. For the shorter the fight, the more things are to your advantage; and the longer it drags out, the reverse is true.*_

A very singed Robbie the Robot made its way over to join them.

"Are you okay, Wrecking Ball?" queried the metamorphmagus, looking the orange golem over.

 _*I am only slightly damaged. This body was designed to withstand severe impacts. And I was a good distance away from the impact point.*_

"What happened to Bellatrix and those two black-cloaked goons?" Tonks demanded.

 _*What usually happens when humans try to pit their strength against powers greater than themselves.*_ Robbie replied cryptically.

"Yes, but what happened to them?" the Auror repeated.

 _* Incinerated into dust. Their frail mortal bodies could not withstand the cascade of magic that shredded them from within and without.*_

"O … kaaaaay …"

"Where's … where's Professor Kikyō?" Ginny was almost afraid to ask. They hadn't seen hide nor hair of the ancient ghost since the blast.

 _*She was at the centre of the blast radius, trapping the two black-cloaked ones and preventing them from fleeing.*_

"Is she … is she …?" Lily Luna/Ginny couldn't say it.

 _*No she has not passed on, to her great sorrow. Her ghost-body has been destroyed many, many times over the centuries, and yet still she is not released unto the next plane of existence. Though invisible to your eye, she reassembles the remnants of her being that have been scattered even as we speak.*_

Unbidden, the memory of some of the first words The Voice had spoken to her after arriving in this world, rose to the forefront of Ginny's mind. _Naught but a corpse with a cursed, false existence, one who has sought death but cannot find release nor reach the sacred place. I am trapped on this plane, living off the souls of the living and the dead …_ She shuddered, in horror and in pity.

 _*But you can ease her reassemblage. You must summon the fragments of her spirit that float here invisibly.*_

"Okay … _Accio Kikyō!_ "

Nothing happened.

 _*Not through your wand,*_ Robbie corrected, a trifle impatiently, _*use the_ _yorishiro_ _as your magical focus. It is for this purpose that we acquired it.*_

"Oh. Right. Yeah." Ginny said sheepishly, peeling the golden candleholder out of her pocket. Waving it in front of her like a wand, she imagined her magic channelling through it and cast. " _Accio Kikyō!_ "

For a minute nothing happened. Then slowly, faint wisps of blue and yellow began to gather around the artefact. One by one, the barely-visible specks of light clung to the golden device and disappeared. Abruptly, the candle sprang to life, the blue fire flickering weakly.

Ginny grinned at the familiar cold blue flame. "We did it!"

 _*You did. Now blow out the flame and inhale the incense smoke.*_

Lily Luna did so, breathing in the purple wisps of smoke. Just like last time, a dizzy spell spun her around in circles. When her mind finally cleared …

 _Thankyou my friends, you have saved me much time and difficulty_ , said The Voice.

 _Kikyō! Are you alright?_ demanded Lily Luna.

 _I … have been better,_ Kikyō admitted. _But I will be myself again in the fullness of time. You have kept your end of our bargain, my friends, I will do my best to uphold mine._

Tonks whistled. "And I thought I'd seen some whack stuff in my time as an Auror …"

"Yeah," Lily Luna gave a half-sob, half-chuckle. "What a day!"

"Come on, kiddo, let's go find the others. Come on, Wrecking Ball!" Pulling the smaller girl into a firm hug, Tonks apparated them both to a small hill overlooking …

"Hey, it's Harry and Sirius and Narcissa and Naho and – the other me!" Lily Luna cheered. "And everyone's fine! Finally we've closed the loop!"

They saw Narcissa transfigure her sister into a lump of coal that Harry put into his pocket.

"Hidellie-ho comrades!" called out Tonks, waving madly. "I see you've cleaned up your neck of the woods too! What say we break out the barbie for a victory braai?"

They could hear Pettigrew's astonished, high, rat-like squeak waft up with the breeze to them.

"Tonks, is that you? How did you get so old?"

"I'm gonna kill that rat," Nymphadora growled, fisted clenched.

Ginny/Lily Luna laughed gaily and skipped down the hill to reunite with her/their friends and family.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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Eleazar Sanguini paced restlessly about the spacious bedroom of Bella Swan – now Cullen. Never in all his years of being a member of the Volturi Guard and scouring the globe for recruits on their behalf, had he ever encountered anything so … freakish as this.

So, a genuine _dhampir_ now sat before him, nestled happily in his wife's undead arms; a genuine half-human half-vampire hybrid. Something long believed to be utterly impossible, biologically or magically. Sure, there were legends galore, such as the one of the redheaded dhampir Rayne who allegedly cut a bloody swathe through the Balkans during the renaissance before eventually hacking her way through Grindelwald's forces there 30 years ago. Not a single shred of evidence existed for this Rayne's existence, and the Volturi had given Eleazar free rein and as much time as he wished to seek out this supposed person and recruit them. He'd devoted an entire decade to the search, but there was never a sign nor scrap of evidence justifying her existence. But now, now there was a genuine one; a living, breathing hybrid right in front of his eyes. _Guess it's true_ , he said to himself, _search your whole life for buried treasure and find bupkis; then slip and fall down into your toilet and strike gelt!_ And a hybrid creature with enormous skill and power in legilimency, to boot! Skills that put his own modest legilimency talents to shame. All while still an infant! It was terrifying to conceive of the potential scope of this child's power once she reached maturity … if she ever did.

For the Volturi were mobilising to extinguish her, under the belief that Bella Swan had sired an undead child. And likely extinguish the rest of the Cullen family if they tried to stand in the way. A month, according to the clairvoyant Alice Cullen, who'd opted to flee the country. She always was the smartest of the family. And not just the Volturi, not just the entire Guard, but the entire Conclave as well. All extracting themselves from their rut and making the transoceanic journey to see to this problem personally! Aro, Caius, Marcus, Sulpicia and Athenodora in the cold, unliving, marble-like, crystal-like, sparkly flesh. It took a crisis of enormous proportions to drag those ancients out of their comfortable, civilised enclave in the heart of Europe.

"A very talented family," he muttered to himself. The room blurred around him as he paced rapidly back and forth. "A mind-reader for a father, a shield for a mother, and then whatever magic this extraordinary child has bewitched us with. I wonder if there is a name for what she does, or if it is the norm for a vampire hybrid. As if such a thing could ever be considered normal! A vampire hybrid, indeed!" Could it be possibly that the mother's natural Occlumency and the father's natural legilimency had somehow combined in It to produce some talent greater than the sum of both?

"Excuse me, what did you just call my wife?" Eleazar found himself in Edward's iron grip.

"A shield, I think. She's blocking me now, so I can't be sure," the Sanguini said absently, still turning the problems over and over in his head. Of course it made sense that the Volturi would never bother themselves with mobilising against an ordinary coven.

"A shield?"

The parents looked completely lost. Typical. Sometimes the Cullens, Merlin love 'em, could be such imbécils.

"Come now, Edward! If I can't get a read on her, I doubt you can, either. Can you hear her thoughts right now?"

"No, but I've _never_ been able to do that. Even when she was human."

"Never? Interesting. That would indicate a rather powerful latent talent, if it was manifesting so clearly even before the transformation. I can't feel a way through her shield to get a sense of it at all. Yet she must be raw still — she's only a few months old." The look he gave Edward now was almost exasperated. "And apparently completely unaware of what she's doing. Totally unconscious. Ironic. Aro sent me all over the world searching for such anomalies, and you simply stumble across it by accident and don't even realise what you have." _Search your whole life for buried treasure and find bupkis; then slip and fall down into your toilet and strike gelt, indeed!_

"What are you talking about? How can I be a shield? What does that even mean?" the shield piped up, keen, focused interest sparkling in her bottomless obsidian eyes. That look made him profoundly uneasy.

"I suppose we were overly formal about it in the Guard. In truth, categorizing talents is a subjective, haphazard business; every talent is unique, never exactly the same thing twice. But you, Bella, are fairly easy to classify. Talents that are purely defensive, that protect some aspect of the bearer, are always called shields. Have you ever tested your abilities? Blocked anyone besides me and your mate?"

"It only works with certain things. My head is sort of ... private. But it doesn't stop Jasper from being able to mess with my mood or Alice from seeing my future."

"Purely a mental defence. Limited, but strong." So the girl was an Occlumens. It was good to have his theory confirmed.

"Aro couldn't hear her, though she was human when they met!" her husband interjected.

"Jane tried to hurt me, but she couldn't," his newly-vampiric wife added. "Edward thinks Demetri can't find me, and that Alec can't bother me, either. Is that good?"

"Quite." Quite was an understatement! Occlumency shields so strong they could resist the efforts of such powerful Legilimens as Edward Cullen and Aro the Signor of Volterra himself! Possibly Renata as well. Shields so strong she could shrug off powerful mental attacks from Jane, Demetri, Alec and Kate! Perhaps it was not strange after all that The Thing was so unique.

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	32. 29 Fortress GAMLDMPPPBMSSSAHWACASTAAD

**Author's Note:**

This is both a HP reworking of "Back to the Future" themes, and a soft reboot/reworking of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" by Rorschach's Blot. Used with the permission of their original authors (except for "Back to the Future" of course). The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter or anything else. Full disclaimer in the Table of Contents.

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Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.

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Canon-compliant. HP&DH compliant (except the Epilogue). HP&CC compliant (except the conclusion). FB&WTFT compliant. Pottermore compliant (mostly). Some crossover with: Naruto, Ranma ½, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Twilight, Lord of the Rings and Avatar: The Last Airbender. Primarily Harry Potter though.

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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "The Chaos Theory" by Bullwinkle's Lady.

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Question of the Week: What's the best explanation for Sally-Ann Perks' disappearance that you've ever heard?

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 **Chapter 29 – Fortress Great and Mighty Lord Daimyō Mr Peter Pettigrew-Potter-Black-Malfoy-Sama Sir and His Wives and Concubines and Servants Too, and Also Dobby (FGAMLDMPPPBMSSSAHWACASTAAD)**

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The pit is it. Those crazy contraptions can't create the kind of classic catastrophe one can cause by a calamitous crater.

– Team Rocket

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The girls sensed a sudden pulse of magic, thunder without sound, in their wizarding tent.

 _Feels like you've just arrived from the future,_ Lily Luna commented. _And have taken to squatting in my private, personal mindspace once again._

 _It wasn't my fault!_ huffed Ginny. _I didn't ask to be here, I enjoy being alone in my own headspace just as much as you, thankyou very much! If you're going to blame anyone, blame my halfwitted brother and my moronic boyfriend sidekick._

 _You know, I may just do that_ , Lily Luna mused as they entered the tent. There lay her Past-Self, twitching and convulsing in an alarming manner.

The half-conscious girl groaned and managed to sit up. Her eyes watered, and she reached up to rub her temple.

The gestalt approached. "Are you alright?"

"Whzarppldrple …"

"The dizziness will pass soon," Ginny said reassuringly, speaking from experience. Eventually the girl opened her eyes fully to gaze in confusion around the tent. Ginny/Lily Luna gave her her time and space to adjust to the new surroundings.

After a minute of silent contemplation, the girl shrieked and lurched upright. She fell out of bed, righted herself from the floor, and staggered towards the door, arms flailing convulsively. "What in the name of Godric's glibbering gobstobbers is going on!?" the redhead yelled.

 _Quickly!_ Kikyō instructed, _you've got to snap her out of her panic attack or she'll wake the entire camp! And that will raise all sorts of unneeded questions!_

Lily Luna took two steps forward and administered four firm slaps to the girl's cheeks. Surprisingly, the rough treatment seemed to work; the redhead's chocolate eyes re-focused, zeroing in on her tormentor.

"What in the name of Merlin's saggy left lobe is your problem?" she demanded angrily. Then her tone abruptly changed to shaken confusion. "Mum? Is that you?"

"She's seeing things," Ginny commented. "Do you think a few more hits will cure her?" she asked thoughtfully.

 _I suppose it couldn't hurt_ , Kikyō agreed.

"You're right, it couldn't hurt." She gave another quick slap to the girl's cheek. "Now have you two pulled yourselves together yet? I'd like to stop hitting myself," Ginny demanded.

Rolling to the side and springing to her feet, the girl drew her wand and aimed it threateningly at Lily Luna/Ginny, an unholy fire dancing in her brown eyes, cheeks flushed in rage. "You have five seconds to explain before I start hexing, Slapper," she snapped coldly.

 _It appears she is properly with us now,_ said Kikyō in satisfaction. _Time to pass me over to her._

"All will be revealed by this artefact," Lily Luna replied soothingly, fishing the Jikan o Rōhi Suru ka no Kyandoruhorudā from her robe pocket. The little golden shintai gleamed in the dim light. She transferred Kikyō's spirit into it. Its blue flickering flame burned with a cold ethereal light. The girl's eyes were immediately drawn to the light. Lily Luna raised the candle up to face-level, then extinguished it, blowing the purple wisps of smoke into the girl's face. The girl sneezed, then staggered backwards, eyes rolling upwards into her head. Ginny leaned forward and seized the girl's shoulders, gently guiding her back down onto the bed. "Just rest," Ginny whispered. "It'll all make sense soon." Lily Luna placed the girl's wand on the bedside table and quietly slipped out of the tent, locking the doorway on the way out.

 _And they're off to the races. Now that that's done, we can retrieve Present-_ _Kikyō from Robbie,_ commented Ginny.

 _What are we going to do with her while she pulls her physical form back together again?_ mused Lily Luna.

Ginny shrugged. _I don't really mind having her in here with us. She's a bottomless mine of useful information about this place and its history and magics. And if I have to share my brain with one person, well, what's one more?_

 _Agreed. It does seem strangely quiet and empty without her snipping orders here and there._

They approached Robbie, standing alone on guard over their row of wizarding tents. Using the shintai once more, the girls transported Kikyō's spirit from the orange golem back into their shared mindspace. Robbie's eyes returned to their malevolent glowing yellow, but he continued his silent vigil without protest.

 _So, when are you going to tell Harry, or Peter, or whatever, your boyfriend that you're in here?_ inquired Lily Luna. _And your brother and Aunt Hermione?_

Ginny blanched. _I'm … I'm not sure … it's just … I'm not comfortable revealing myself to him in this … this state_ , she said vaguely. _I'd rather wait for the time being … I need some time. You know, to get my head on straight first. This … this isn't really a dream or hallucination is it?_

 _I wish I could tell you otherwise, but no. We're stuck with each other for now._

 _I was afraid you'd say that ... I'll tell him after … after we get ourselves into separate bodies._

 _I don't think he'll mind you know; he's hardly in a position to judge other people for inhabiting bodies not their own!_

 _I recommend not delaying too long,_ Kikyō advised. _I am not an expert on relationships, but trust me on this one thing: hiding secrets and withholding facts from your partner does not end well … it never does …_

The two girls were startled at the ghost's uncharacteristic moroseness.

 _Do you … do you want to talk about it?_ asked Lily Luna tentatively.

Kikyō sighed. _I appreciate the offer but … it was almost 1000 years ago now, it is ancient history. Everyone involved has passed on into the sacred realm. Except me._

 _It doesn't sound like it's bygones in your heart_ , Lily Luna said gently.

 _Perhaps … perhaps some other time, my child. Though I thank you for your compassion for an old soul._

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The remaining members of the HA stood on the platform and watched the train being loaded.

"Just unbelievable," opined Lily, shaking her head.

"Why are you so surprised? We have the Hogwarts Express in Magical Britain," Narcissa responded.

"The Hogwarts Express wasn't used to transport cranes, two-ton trucks and other heavy construction equipment to Hogsmeade," Lily replied, pointing to where the huge vehicles were being levitated onto flatcars. "Besides, Magical Britain is only stuck in the Georgian Era (with a bit of the Tudors thrown in," she muttered to herself, glancing at her Lady Black Ring), "the wild regions of Mahōnihon are supposed to be living in the medieval period! Why do they need construction vehicles, military jeeps, satellite dishes, radio headsets, surveillance cameras and all the rest? I think I even saw boxes of rocket-launchers in there as well! What on earth are they going to do with real, honest-to-Merlin rocket launchers!?"

"They're going to fight a war, I presume," Harry said, arriving on the platform to join them. The bystanders drew back fearfully at the seven-foot black-cowled monstrosity that floated along beside him. Another one floated behind the pair, guarding their rear. They strolled through the parted crowds like Moses through the Red Sea. "Seems the Japanese magicals don't have the same prejudices against using muggle technology as we Europeans. The Emperor told me that there's a long-standing agreement between the muggle Japanese Self-Defence Forces and the daimyō of the wild regions to keep them and their Hidden Villages supplied with the best and latest of muggle military hardware. All of this stuff is from the JSDF I'd wager. Ensures the Magical Council's allies in the interior are more heavily armed than all their enemies, and all that. So if you guys could keep Lily Luna from nicking the rocket-launchers, I would really appreciate it. Neither Hermione nor I really need an international incident breaking out right now."

"Getting' awfully friendly with the hell-beasts, ain't we Pettigrew?" Mary commented, eyeing the Dementors warily.

"Walking around with Khamûl and Adûnaphel means never having to wait in line ever again!" he joked. "Or being crowded by other people, or being asked for your ticket, or being asked whether you're over 18, or being told this is a restricted area, or being told that that item doesn't belong to you, or being told to accompany the nice officer to the station, or being told that the men in white coats want to have a word with you …"

"We get it," Remus broke in.

"Once you've spent as much time as I have around dark wizards and basilisks and snakes and dragons and hippogriffs, a few Dementors just seem blasé and par for the course." Harry shrugged. "And Khamûl and her bootlickers _did_ help save our bacon in Kyōto. Besides, when you're not gibbering and jabbering in existential terror at her aura, Khamûl is a very interesting conversationalist. Apparently she had to pretend to be a man for 20 years in order to be eligible to inherit her throne."

"Typical male chauvinism," sniffed Mary. "Good on ye lass, fer stickin' it out."

"Speaking of which, why aren't we 'gibbering and jabbering in existential terror' right now?" asked Narcissa, peeking around Sirius' shoulder.

"Khamûl and Adûnaphel are restraining the Black Breath as much as they can. Seems it's like Veela allure, they can control how much or how little of their aura they project around them."

"So what's this one's story?" asked Mary, jabbing her finger at the shyer mind-rending hell-monster.

"This is Adûnaphel the Quiet, the other witch-queen amongst the eight royals. I don't know anything else, they don't call her 'the Quiet' for nothing. Khamûl does all her talking for her."

"Can we call Khamûl something else please?" said Lily impatiently. "Saying that thing's name all the time makes me feel like we're shilling cigarettes or something."

"Sure, take your pick: Shadow of the East; Black Queen of Rhûn; the Easterling; She of the Unlight; Hell-Hawk; Fell Rider; the Ghost of the Forest; the Dark Marshal of Mordor; the Daemon of Dol Guldur; the Lieutenant of Carn Dûm –"

"Stop! Is something that _doesn't_ sound like the lyrics of a death metal song too much to ask for?"

The Dementor gave a hiss and a rattle. It was hard to tell whether it was of pleasure, interest, fury, contempt, or apprehension. Harry nodded attentively. The Japanese bystanders shuddered and drew further away.

"She says she was also called Attëa by a bunch of elves. How's that?"

"Much better, thankyou. In fact, it's a lovely name. What's it mean?"

"No idea, I'm not an elf. Why don't you ask Dobby or Kreacher? Which reminds me – Dobby! Kreacher!" Harry knelt down so he could address his two house elves at eye-level. "Dobby, Kreacher. I have a very important mission for you. It's super-critical to the outcome of _everything_ , do you understand?"

The ancient elf looked indifferent, but Dobby's eyes grew larger than dinner-plates.

"I need you to accompany Lily, Remus, Mary and Lily Luna and protect them from any dangers. Do you understand?"

"That really isn't necessary," Lily remarked. "I think we're more than capable of managing by ourselves. Why not take them with you instead? Seems like the bouncy one would prefer that."

Remus chuckled ruefully. "Speak for yourself. I think we could use all the help we can get. We're a bunch of ill-informed gaijin heading into the wildest and most lawless regions of an unknown continent, who don't understand the culture, can't read or write the script, have magical skills equivalent to somewhere between their genin and chūnin, and our combat skills are probably equivalent to one of their 11 year olds! What's not to like?"

"Surely we'll handle ourselves a tad better than that," Mary objected, her boundless self-confidence rearing its head.

"I don't know, Mare. Face it, in spite of the training gauntlet Flitwick and HA have wrung us through, we're still a bunch of pampered soft rich kids from a soft rich country," the werewolf warned. "These kids have been raised to fight and kill from the age of four, in a harsh and unforgiving world."

"Just don't let them get near you," Narcissa advised. "Their ranged weapons are throwing knives, stars and bomb-pellets, according to Professor Maniaku; should be easy enough to dodge or shield against those, we've spent plenty of time in the HA practising it. But if one gets up-close-and-personal, they could vivisect you before you can say _Finite!_ "

"Dobby, Kreacher, if one of those ninjas gets up close to my friends in a threatening way, you throw them clear into the next Nation, y'hear!"

"Dobby understands, Mighty and Dread Magister Mundi Peter Pettigrew sir," he breathed reverently. "Dobby will exert his every energy to his dying breath!" the little elf stated, eyes shining with tears and unable to come up with words to tell the greatest wizard that ever existed how great he was. Kreacher rolled his eyes in disgust at such a shameful display.

"Pandora, Apolline and Naho are with Dumbledore and the Order, so they'll be safe enough. Sirius, Narcissa, Tonks and I will be in nice, normal, boring, mundane Japan. I'd feel a lot safer if you four had house elf backup, just as an extra precaution." Harry stated firmly to his friends. He placed his bag of holding onto the platform and opened it up. "Now the only other thing left on my list to take care of is … ah! Here you go Moony, drink them in good health!"

"What are these?" Remus asked curiously, accepting the rack filled with dozens of vials of a strange bluey-silvery potions.

"Nothing much," said Harry casually, "just a brand-new highly-experimental potion for your little furry problem. It's called Wolfsbane; not a cure for the curse, but it does alleviate the worst of the symptoms: eases the pain of the lycanthropic transformations, allows you to keep your rational mind while in the wolf-state, and so on."

Remus stared at Harry, stared at the potions, stared at Harry again.

"That reminds me, I haven't taken my own potions today," Harry fished two vials of viscous green liquid out of his robe pocket. "Cheers!" And threw them down the hatch, wincing at the bitter taste.

"Explain!" Moony demanded hoarsely.

"Hmmm? Oh, the Wolfsbane? Invented by Damocles Belby a year or two ago, a former Slug Club member if I remember rightly. It's basically aconite which has been treated in the light of the full moon for several months. There's a bunch of other steps but I can't remember. Here's a list of instructions if you want to brew your own."

Remus numbly accepted the scroll. "Why have I never heard of this before?"

"Didn't I mention the 'brand-new' and 'highly-experimental' bit?"

"Are ye sure that's safe to drink?" asked Mary dubiously. "I'll not have me bairns poisoning himself over one of your or Pandora's experiments."

"It's perfectly fine, he's been imbibing the stuff since the beginning of term!"

"What!?"

"Had the elves slip it into your food and drink. You have to take a gobletful each day of the week leading up to the full moon. Don't forget that. What's with those looks? Don't tell you hadn't noticed your transformations have been a lot easier these past two semesters, Moony?"

"Of course I've noticed, you numptie! Why didn't you ever tell me? It's been driving me nuts trying to figure out what had changed!"

"Aha, so the mystery of what you get up to whenever you're not in classes, studying or doing your HA research or training, is finally solved!"

"Wormtail," the werewolf growled warningly.

 _Flee! advised the Dormouse._

"I didn't tell you because I was waiting to see if it had any effect!" Harry said hastily, taking several steps backwards as a precaution. "I assumed that if it was working you'd immediately talk to your fellow Marauders about it. Get your friends to help you work out what was going on; I was going to reveal all then. Guess I was wrong."

Remus abruptly deflated. "I … I was going to tell you guys … but … I dunno … I just wanted to figure out what was going on first …" he trailed off.

Both boys shuffled in embarrassment.

Lily, Mary and Narcissa shared a look that plainly said, _Men, what can you do with such morons?_

Khamûl the Easterling and Adûnaphel the Quiet had seemingly become bored with the conversation, for the terrifying creatures silently floated down into the bag and disappeared, to the immense relief of the inhabitants of the train station.

"Will you stop carrying that horrible bag around please, Peter? It's really disgusting," Lily complained, as Harry closed it up and stowed it away in his back pocket.

"But it's got all my equipment in it!"

"Then could you at least transfigure it into something else – like a flowery purse, or one of those brooches that open up?"

"I don't know if it's a good idea to try to transfigure an experimental one-of-a-kind enormous Expanded Space into something else," Harry replied slowly. "You're the theory expert, what do you think?"

Lily pondered that technical and academic problem with all the gusto that her mighty brain could muster. Before she could offer her informed opinion, however, a sharp, high-pitched train whistle pierced the heavens like a drill.

"Guess that's our cue ta be off!" Mary declared. "See ye in a week!" With a royal wave, she stepped lightly into the nearest carriage. Remus trotted after her in a daze, clutching his precious rack of potions to his chest. Lily Luna and Tonks dashed out of the crowd, late as usual. A quick embrace, and the redhead was up and into the train, giving the rest of the group on the platform a distracted wave goodbye. Tonks strolled over to join the group on the platform.

Harry felt his eyebrows raising. Lily Luna had been actually awful strange the last couple of days. And if he didn't know any better, he'd think she were avoiding him.

"I still don't know why you're bothering to travel by that contraption. Why can't we have Fawkes flash us to our destinations in an instant, like he did with the others?" Sirius inquired.

"Ehehe …" Harry scratched the back of his head, while Lily shifted uncomfortably.

"The thing is," Lily began sheepishly, "Fawkes is still a little upset with Peter and I … he's refused to take us anywhere by phoenix-fire."

"You managed to get blacklisted by a Creature of Light?" Tonks demanded in amazement. "How? Did you perform Dark Arts in front of him?"

"You know … for kinda … shaving him bald and painting him with polka-dots …"

"So as a result, ye'll take the high road and we'll take the low road, and we'll be in Konoha afore ye," Mary called out, head poking out of the carriage window.

"That about sums it up, yes."

"That's all well and good," Sirius objected, "but what about the rest of us? We didn't have anything to do with your shenanigans! Why can't the bloody bird take us and leave you two delinquents behind?"

"'Delinquents'? That's pretty rich coming from you, Padfoot," Harry snarked.

"It doesn't matter if you were involved or not – Fawkes apparently considers the rest of you fellow Marauders and guilty by association. Even Mary, Narcissa and Lily Luna," Lily sighed.

"So how come Pandora and Apolline got first-class tickets on the flaming express?" demanded Sirius. "While you have to put up with this flamin' express?" He gestured to the 19th-century steam engine in front of them.

"Pandora can talk her way into getting anything she wants. Believe me, I know," Harry said. "Apolline's the same. Maybe as a fellow Light bird, she and Fawkes have a special understanding or something, who knows?"

"It's probably for the best," Narcissa added. "We don't want to risk Lily and Apolline being left together unsupervised again do we? Not after what happened last time. Imagine what sort of havoc they'd wreak out here!"

"Why you little!" Lily made a lunge for the youngest Black daughter, who shrieked with laughter and dived behind her Sirius-shield.

There was no time for further exploration of the issue. The train whistled a second time and, with a quick hug for Harry, Lily dashed up the stairs and into the carriage. Harry, Sirius, Tonks and Narcissa waved as the locomotive began to chug away. Mary and Lily Luna leaned out their window and waved back.

"All aboard the Magical Ninja Train!" Lily Luna yelled. "We're going off the rails on our ninja train!"

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Travel by phoenix-fire was by far the greatest form of transportation in the world, decided Hi-no-Kagutsuchi Naho. The magical bird had somehow been able to read her memories and emotions of her home and family as it perched upon her shoulder. She could feel the creature's warm, sympathetic presence floating through her mind as she remembered birthdays and full moon festivals and bouncing her cousin Shizuna on her lap. From these scattered images and feelings, it was somehow able to deduce the location of the Hi-jo, the castle of Hi-no-Kuni, the Daimyō of the Land of Fire, and drag the entire coterie directly there in a matter of seconds.

Their sudden appearance in the main dining hall in the middle of lunch alarmed the security staff greatly, and a fire-fight almost broke out. Fortunately, through some fast talking on her part and her uncle and aunt's recognition of her, the crisis was averted. Presentation of the Emperor's letter further smoothed any ruffled nerves, and the party was quickly invited to join the repast.

It turned out that the Emperor was indeed correct (as if there were ever any doubt!) that civil war was brewing. The excited chatter on the grapevine was that the Fourth Great Shinobi World War was only months away from breaking out, if not less. The Five Kages of the Five Nations of the ninja world were currently en route to a summit to address the issue and marshal their combined strength. It was quickly decided that the English emissaries attend this summit as their own delegation, to offer insight regarding the interloping European forces. And her place was with the emissaries. Sadly saying farewell to baby Shizuna and her Aunt Shijimi, she promised she would visit at her next opportunity. Which, if the alarming rumours were any indication, may not be for a long time.

The phoenix again did its special trick, perching upon the shoulder of her uncle and concentrating for a time. Then with a triumphant trill, it spread its magnificent crimson and gold tail feathers for them all to grasp. Another flash of fire, and they were in the Land of Iron, outside a large stone building. Surrounded by heavily-armoured samurai. Again, their sudden appearance in a flash of flame almost started the second fire-fight of the day. Again, fortunately, the crisis was averted. The Hi-no-Kuni was recognised, and his word combined with the Emperor's recommendation saw them ushered into the highest-security wing of the structure, the location of the Kage's meeting, which had apparently only begun this very morning.

Which led to herself, Pandora Lovegood and Apolline Delacour stuck here in the anteroom with the rest of the nobodies – against their vocal protests – waiting to be called upon if needed. While her uncle and the British leader, Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts and his six lackeys from the Order of the Phoenix were permitted inside the inner sanctum of power to plot with the other Kages.

"Zis is so unfair," fumed Apolline, pacing back and forth furiously. Sparks literally shot from her eyes and fingernails from time to time, making it appear as though she were caught in a tornado of static electricity. The other nobodies, peons, bureaucrats and paper-pushers nervously shifted as far as they could get to the other side of the room. "'Ow can zey do zis to me – ME! I am Lady Apolline Margueritte Delacour! I am a Baroness of Magical France! I am not one of zese pathetic drones who cower and cringe and infest zis hellish barbarian land," she gestured towards the other inhabitants clustered at the other end of the room.

Some glowered at her for the brazen insult, but none were brave enough to call her out. Nor were they brave enough to protest at Pandora busily rearranging the Spartan furnishings for better feng shui.

Naho nodded. The fiery Veela was only articulating what they were all thinking.

"But noooo, zat means nothing to zese peegs – we are in Mahōnihon, a place ruled by imbeciles. Any other country and zis so-called 'world war' would've been dealt with by now. Eet eez astounding zat zese nations even exist; per'aps an interesting research topic for our lovely scientist."

Eventually, Apolline tired of her BF. With a delicate sigh, she slipped daintily onto the seat beside her companions. "You know me – I am not one to ramble on and on and take forever to get to ze point." Naho hastily agreed. "I can only 'ope zat Pierre, Sirius and Pandora's mission is progressing more satisfactorily zan ours!"

"We can only hope," Pandora replied airily. "In the meantime, I would appreciate it if we could use this dead-time to get up to speed on what's going on …"

"What would you like to know?" asked Naho, folding her arms demurely. "As your guide, one of my roles is to ensure you are supplied with the information you desire."

"How about telling us what in Merlin's name a 'Kage' is, Naho-san?"

"Just Naho, please. A Kage is in essence a Shadow-Lord. In the sense that, they are the shadow rulers of the wild regions. The regions are divided up into five major nations and galaxy of smaller city-states, tribes or independent villages. Each of the Five Nations is named after the dominant chakra techniques they specialise in: Fire, Earth, Water, Wind and Lightning, derived from the 'bending' affinities they claim to have inherited from the Four Empires they declare their descent from. A nation is ruled by a daimyō, my uncle is the daimyō of the largest and most powerful of the Nations. But each daimyō also patronises a particular major ninja village in their demesne. There are lots of tiny villages of ninja dotted all over the place, but they don't matter politically. We're currently in the Land of Iron, one of those insignificant places – it's like neutral territory for the Kages. The only villages that matter are the five sponsored by the daimyō, usually referred to as 'Hidden Villages' because they're somehow supposed to be secret. I do not know why such a fiction is maintained, since everybody in the wild regions knows where they're located. In any case, the strongest ninja of each so-called 'Hidden' Village is elected by the local clans and endorsed by the daimyō. This person runs the village and nation on behalf of the daimyō. Hence, a shadow ruler, or Kage. In short: the nations report to the clans, the clans report to the Hidden Village councils, the Hidden Village councils report to the Kages, the Kages report to the daimyō, and the daimyō report to the Emperor."

"So that letter of introduction from the Emperor …"

"As good as gold in these lawless regions, where the only authority that actually has any real legitimacy is that of the Emperor, the daimyō and (to a much lesser extent) the Kages …"

From the distance, they could hear loud crashes, shouting, screaming and explosive blasts, getting gradually closer. The other attendants in the room began to mutter nervously amongst themselves. The door crashed open and a faceless samurai burst in. "Akatsuki! They're here!" he shouted, before disappearing again. Immediately, panic ensued. The other inhabitants of the room fled for their lives, falling over each other in their haste to evacuate the building.

"Who are zese 'Akatsuki', Naho?" demanded Apolline. "And why are people losing zeir minds over it?"

"Terrorists," Naho summarised succinctly. "Started out as a simple mercenary outfit, and gradually evolved into one of the insurrectionist groups trying to overthrow the Kages. And most likely allies of your Lords Grindelwald and Voldemort."

That got a reaction. Lovegood and Delacour immediately sprang into duelling stances, wands raised.

"So they're here because …"

"I would hazard a guess that they are here to assassinate the Kages. And massacre the rest of us."

"That's all I need to hear: magical girls, Unite!" bellowed Pandora. The two Europeans moved together beside Naho, into a battle formation they had practiced many times in the HA.

Wands brandished, the three mahōshōjo prepared to fight for their lives.

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 _WAR IN KYŌTO! DARK LORD GRINDELWALD AND HIS SQUIB GHOST PET FAIL TO OVERTHROW JAPANESE MAGICAL AND MUGGLE GOVERNMENTS!_

 _Fearsome Invading Force of Inferii! Dark Lords and Barbarian Allies Try to Destroy Japanese Magical Council and Fail Miserably! Are They Likely to Return to Britain as a Result?_

 _By Rita Skeeter and Bea O'Problem_

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Lily, Mary and Remus (who seemed to be joined at the hip these days), and Lily Luna and Ginny (joined rather more literally) watched as the construction crews swiftly rebuilt what was once Konoha-gakure no Sato, the village hidden by leaves, but was now a half-filled hole in the ground.

"One man," Remus breathed, shaking his head in awe at the enormous crater. "One single, solitary ninja was able to level this entire city _by himself_ in the course of an hour or two … what have we got ourselves into, ladies?"

"Well, Lord Pein of the Akatsuki was an exceptional ninja," one of their Leaf shinobi guards offered uncomfortably. "And he was eliminated at the culmination of the Invasion, so you need not worry about him showing up any more."

"But this wasn't the first invasion of Konoha in the last five years was it?" Lily Luna pointed out, blinking her wide chocolate eyes innocently. "According to the rumours I've heard, it was also attacked by a satellite village made up of Leaf colonists and led by a Leaf sanin. Just like this 'Lord Pein' was trained by another Leaf sanin."

That prompted a lot of mutterings and grumblings and curses directed against the 'filthy Oto-ninja swine', 'Sound traitors', 'Orochimaru lackeys' and 'fake wanna-be ninja village'.

Tiring of the subject, Mary pointed her finger. "Take a gander at that. The mountain looks like Mt Rushmore."

The friends swivelled to marvel at the mountain that dominated the valley; five giant faces of past and current Hokages glared down sternly at them. The enormous carvings were somewhat similar to the giant statue of Salazar Slytherin in the Chamber of Secrets. Well, Salazar _before_ Ronald Bilius Weasley had got hold of him.

"It does," Lily observed. "Only the heads are more … stone-faced." She started to giggle.

"Just when I thought your jokes couldn't get any worse," groaned Mary.

"The similarity is no accident," advised one of their nameless Leaf ANBU guardians, inadvertently preventing a six-hour magical blood-feud. "Hokage-iwa was originally constructed by a Leaf shinobi who visited muggle America decades ago. He was most impressed by the idea and decided that if non-ninja could build something so grand, then Konoha owed it to itself to do them one better."

"So it's basically Mt Hokagemore then," Lily Luna sensibly.

"It's called Hokage-iwa!" the ANBU objected hotly.

"Whatever. As fascinating as it is, we can't spend all day staring at Mt Hokagemore; we'll need our own place to stay," Mary commented to her friends.

"Too true," Remus agreed (as he often did whenever Mary proffered an opinion). "I don't want to live in a wizarding tent forever."

"I don't know," Lily Luna mused, "we could always pitch it right on the head of that guy" she pointed at the topmost statue, "and then we can be like the faces of Mt Hokagemore, staring down at the population in contempt."

"Or we could ask Dobby to help us find a spot to set up shop," Lily offered, trying to change the topic before any of their hosts decided to lynch them.

"You called Dobby, Mistress of Great Lord Peter Pettigrew sir?" Dobby's voice asked from what had been an empty space a moment before.

"I need help finding a good location nearby, Dobby," Lily explained, deciding to ignore the elf's modes of address. Experience had proven that the following discussion would achieve nothing but migraines. And travelling across the world with this lot induced enough headaches as it was, no need to multiply her suffering needlessly. Besides, she was more than a bit amused that the little elf had managed to bypass the 'elite' guards of the ANBU stationed around them for their 'protection'. "We need a place to stay while we're here. An embassy, if you will."

"Dobby can help!" the little elf shouted, "Dobby will help Concubine of Ever-Righteous Master Peter Pettigrew sir! Please let Dobby help! Please!"

"Great," Mary said cheerfully, "I knew we could count on you."

"Dobby must go to arrange things for family of Divine Daimyō Peter Pettigrew sir now," the little elf said seriously.

"Bye, Dobby."

"Bye, Missy Mac."

Dobby immediately popped around to various places around Konoha, before realising something important. "Oh no," he wailed, "Dobby forgot to ask Mistress of His Lord High Ratty-ness Peter Pettigrew sir what 'embassee' is! Dobby is a bad elf, an embarrassment to all elf kind! Now how will Mr Peter Pettigrew the Compassionate the Merciful sir get his embassee?"

"Not my problem," a passing Leaf shinobi sneered.

"Wait!" Dobby squealed happily, "Great and Illustrious Mr Peter Pettigrew sir's woman-servant _does_ tell Dobby – she says they are looking for a place to stay in revolting, ruined ditch of a village."

"Hey!" a different Leaf shinobi objected to the slight against his home.

"What sort of place to stay?" the house elf wondered to himself, completely ignoring the man's spluttering. "Would Eternal Emperor Mr Peter Pettigrew sir wish to have like a trunk with lots of wonderful things like secret rooms?" He thought hard on the problem. "No, if a wizarding tent with many rooms is not good enough for Mistress Ellie Looner, then a trunk would not be good enough either. A castle would be better." Dobby congratulated himself for his wonderful plan. "Now where shall Dobby put Prince of Peace Peter Pettigrew sir's castle?"

After hours of carefully searching every inch of the Valley Hidden by Leaves, Dobby eventually settled on a point on the top of the mountain range opposite Mt Hokagemore as the site of the new Fortress Great and Mighty Lord Daimyō Mr Peter Pettigrew-Potter-Black-Malfoy-Sama Sir and His Wives and Concubines and Servants Too, and Also Dobby (FGAMLDMPPPBMSSSAHWACASTAAD), so that it too could dominate the landscape and stare down at the population in contempt. Of course, Master Peter had final choice on any name, but Dobby thought it best to have a name in mind during the construction period.

House elf magic is powerful magic indeed and the two elves had been super-charged for the entire time they'd been in the country, due to the overabundance of natural magical energy emanating from the earth, and no other house elves within several thousand miles to divide it with. So it should come as no surprise that Dobby, with the help of a reluctant Kreacher, completed construction within nine hours of breaking ground. By the first morning light, FGAMLDMPPPBMSSSAHWACASTAAD, Peter Pettigrew's new 'embassee', was done; built of heavy stone blocks native to the area. Luckily for the two plucky elves (i.e., one plucky and one surly), some Leavies had generously left all sorts of construction materials, such as quarried stone blocks, mortar, wooden beams, metal beams, concrete supports, etc, just lying around all over the place! That made the work faster and easier by many orders of magnitude.

"Now all Dobby needs to do is get a library for the Great and Powerful Potentate Peter Pettigrew sir so that Master Blaster Peter Pettigrew sir can use those books to study and learn all the weird magics of the foreign and strange-smelling barbarians."

Search of the valley yielding nothing; sadly all written materials had either been destroyed in the carnage, or hidden away somewhere Dobby couldn't ascertain.

"Oh no," he cried piteously, "Dobby cannot find a single book in entire annihilated remains of a city! Dobby is a bad elf who has disgraced all previous generations of generations of elves by not finding materials for his master to learn strange and disturbing Japanese magics … wait! Nearby is Oto-village full of bad ninjoes. Leavies hate bad ninjoes so will not mind if Dobby be taking their books!"

Grabbing the HA's collection of mokeskin pouches, Dobby dragged Kreacher to said hidden village which was hidden 30 miles away. A distance that would take a team of jōnin two days to traverse was reached in matter of two seconds. Luckily the secret ninja villages emitted so much chakra/magic that, though invisible and insensible to a human, to a house elf, lit the areas as bright as beacons. The secret town of Oto-gakure no Sato and its secret network of secret tunnels were systematically stripped of all their literature.

Five hours later, the elves emptied their pouches and filled FGAMLDMPPPBMSSSAHWACASTAAD with a giant stack of scrolls, books, parchments and clay tablets, and confronted a new problem.

"Where will Dobby put the Wonderful Wizard Peter Pettigrew sir's books?" he wailed, "Dobby is a bad elf who deserves to have his own ears ironed for forgetting to get furniture for Rock of Ages Peter Pettigrew sir's books!" He frowned in thought. "While Dobby is at it, he may as well also get chairs and tables and weapons and equipment and supplies so that His Virileness Verminous Peter Pettigrew sir and his horde of harem slaves can sit down and sleep on something besides stone floor ... oh, and a desk so that the Lord High Peter Pettigrew sir can have a place to study."

Another brief trip and the secret town of Oto-gakure no Sato and its secret network of secret tunnels were systematically stripped of everything else of value. The elves even took the liberty of removing every pane of glass and mat of tatami, as well as the Snake Throne of the former Otokage Orochimaru, which Dobby proudly installed in the Great Hall of FGAMLDMPPPBMSSSAHWACASTAAD so that the Master of Mayhem Peter Pettigrew sir could sit in state on his throne while he held audiences for cringing supplicants.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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It was mayhem in the Iron fortress. Officials, secretaries, janitorial staff, armoured samurai, panicked ran around like headless chimerae, running into walls, door and each other. Many hid themselves in whatever rooms or bunkers they could find and barricaded themselves in. The triad of magical girls pierced through the chaos, the crowds flowing to their left and right like water.

"Point me Akatsuki!" Pandora demanded of her wand. It twirled this way and that in her palm, but seemed reluctant to point in any particular direction. "It's no good, I need to have at least some idea of what I'm looking for or the spell won't work," she sighed.

"Zen zink of something else – you are a Genius, are you not?" Apolline demanded.

"Of course I am, how dare you question me, minion! Hmmm … let's see ... fronto-occipital fasciculus, don't fail me now! …" She began pacing up and down. Presently she froze, stock still in the middle of a step. Snapped her fingers loudly. "Eureka! Why don't we initiate an enooooormous power buildup! We find a ley-line or two and convert their magicogeofields into a controlled ion flow – like tapping a geyser! Of lava! With all that intra-folded chakra emanation, it would trick our Akatsuki swill into believing that _we_ are the cluster of Kages, and attack us instead! Much easier than chasing them all over this Merlin-forsaken complex. Gad zooks, how do I do it? I don't even know myself! Bwahahahahahahahahaaaaaa!"

"Heeheheheheheeheheh!" Apolline joined in with her own light, tinkling-brook laughter.

"Aaaah, I am unsure that is a prudent course of action," began Naho nervously.

"Who cares about being prudent when you can be **_right_**!?" demanded the magiscientist.

"And with all zat potential magic stored, we can set a trap for zese mutinous peasants – as soon as zey come running – ZAPP! We reverse ze polarity of ze flow right into zeir traitorous faces!" A bright bolt of electricity arced from her clawed hand in demonstration.

Pandora nodded approvingly. "That's the spirit! If we use the correct sequence of runes, we should be able to channel the stochastic chakra bioenergy manifold into a crude annular confinement beam."

"And that's good, right?" queried the Japanese girl uncertainly.

"Absolutely, it might even prevent this entire complex from being reduced to subatomic detritus once we flip the switch!"

"I very much recommend we reconsider …"

"There's a ley-line right here, running down the main hallway. An impressively strong one. Not surprising, they doubtless built this structure on very this location for that very reason. Draw the ritual circle! May as well do it right here, not like anyone else is around to object to graffiti!"

"Zis is so exciting!"

"I really think we should retreat …"

"I know – I'm so brilliant I even scare myself sometimes!"

"Perhaps we can join the Kages and present a united front …"

"Charge the runic array!"

"We 'ave ignition!"

The hum of power and glow of primordial, eldritch light filled the hallway attracted the attention of a cohort of armoured Iron samurai, who gathered around to observe the proceedings.

"Akatsuki swine – now you shall feel the wrath of The Science Of Magic™!" Pandora roared.

The samurai raised their fists and cheered. Soon victory would be theirs! The air sparked and crackled.

The invading Akatsuki (who had indeed by attracted by the power buildup) watched in stunned amazement as the floor of the hallway cracked and buckled, swallowing the two gaijin and their samurai allies into a giant, gaping hole.

The tormented building gave another groan of pain, and then the ceiling was collapsing. The whole hole vanished in a cascade of debris. The four Akatsuki took one look at the expanding devastation and fled the wing, resolving to find another route into the Chamber of the Kages.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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"You know that this débâcle is entirely the fault of you two hotheads," Naho uttered coldly.

It was slow work digging through all the rubble that blocked their escape. Even with a dozen samurai working their hardest to clear away the broken rocks and sand, they only seemed to progress at a crawl. The girls' Blasting Curses and levitation spells helped a lot, but they also churned through an unpleasantly high amount of their magical reserves.

"It was just a couple of itty-bitty decimal places," Pandora huffed. "Don't act like you've never made a mistake! Albeit a trivial and almost unnoticeable mistake that I am compelled by my strong sense of honesty to admit that I made. A mistake so trivial and unnoticeable that it would not be worth anybody's while to mention it ever again ... But fear not, faithful minions, for your Lady and Mistress of Science will have you out of here before you can say 'technobabble'!"

"Really?" asked one eager fellow.

"Of course! I couldn't rub my superior genius in those Akatsuki ignoramus's faces if I didn't, could I?" Pandora replied with a crazed smile. "Isn't that generous of me? Lucky for them the size of my generosity is second only to the size of my limitless genius!" Pandora bellowed. "Bwahahahahaha –"

"Laugh after we're free," Naho chided curtly.

"Ahem, yes." A deranged grin formed on the magiscientist's face as she thought of all the ways she could demonstrate her blinding intellect to those ninja villains using the most brutal and disgusting methods possible.

"Per'aps you could put some of zat limitless genius to work figuring out why we cannot apparate out of 'ere?" Apolline suggested hopefully.

"Possibly due to the extremely high iron and cobalt content in the rocks and walls," theorised Pandora, "else a series of transport-magic-inhibiting transplanar rune arrays or self-reenergising ritual-fields have been embedded throughout the structure to interfere with inward-focused magics like apparition or elf-popping. Perhaps an additional security measure, to stop people apparating in, grabbing a Kage then apparating out again a second later."

"Let us test zat – Dobby! Kreacher!" Apolline looked around expectantly. No elf came to their rescue. She sighed. "So either zey are too far away to 'ear me, can 'ear me but cannot get in, or zey would be able to 'ear me except for whatever eez blocking our apparition."

"Guess it's back to work then," Naho said, firing off another blasting curse then levitating the slag out of the way. "Get moving you two; since you're responsible for us being here, you have no excuse to shirk on the labour!" The other two girls hastily jumped to it. "If only we had some earth or metal benders with us," the Japanese witch grumbled. A number of the samurai nodded their agreement as they continued to haul away the dense debris.

"You and Professor Maniaku have both dropped hints about this 'bending' stuff. You stated earlier that each of the Five Nations is named after the dominant chakra techniques they specialise in, techniques derivative of so-called 'bending' affinities. Mind elaborating a tad?"

"Hai," Naho grunted as she banished a considerably larger chunk of stone. "Bending refers to the ability to manipulate the natural elements at a basic level. Most of the population of the wild regions claim to have inherited their affinities from the inhabitants of the Four Empires of antiquity. Those with affinities with earth and metal jutsus claim to descend from people of the Earth Kingdom (like our colleagues in the Land of Iron here); those with affinities to fire and lightning jutsus claim to descend from the Fire Nation; those with affinities to water, mist, rain and other liquid jutsus claim to descend from the Water Tribe; and everyone else claim to descend from the Air Nomads."

"Zese Four Empires are not ze same as ze Five Nations?"

"No. It all goes back to the ancient past of Mahōnihon and Mahōshina. To the historical Water Tribe of water benders who were based to the extreme north and south, in the polar regions. The Earth Kingdom of earth benders, centred in the now-Middle Kingdom. The Fire Nation of fire benders, comprising the periphery regions, what is now called Japan and India. And the Air Nomad clans of air benders in Tibet and Central Asia. Each empire was culturally unique and its population, according to legend, exclusively practiced bending only one element apiece. That's no longer the case of course. Due to migration and miscegenation, the elemental affinities are scattered and intermixed across the lands. Nevertheless, the Five Nations and their respective populations each tend to gravitate collectively towards certain affinities. Such as the Land of Fire – guess which elements most of _our_ ninja prefer?"

"They only _claim_ descent?"

"It is considered prestigious to hail from a bloodline descended from one of the ancient Empires, especially from their royal lines."

"But is it _true_?" the magiscientist demanded.

Naho shrugged smoothly. Even with sweat streaming down her face, and loose strands of obsidian hair stuck to her forehead and cheeks, she was still the epitome of grace and aplomb. "Perhaps. The Four Empires disappeared millennia ago, long before written records began to be kept in Mahōnihon. Plenty claim to maintain unbroken oral traditions of the generations of their forebears all the way back to the empires, but whether they are actually based in objective reality … there is no way to know for sure, short of sending a magiarchaeological expedition to excavate the remains of the Air Nomads' caves in southern Tibet. Or to the ruins of Ba-Sing-Sē outside of Beijing in the Middle Kingdom." She paused in her labour for a bit, eyes closed, smooth forehead creased slightly in recollection. The girl began to sing in a soft, melodious soprano:

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 _It's a long, long way to Ba-Sing-Sē_

 _But the girls in the city_

 _They look so pretty_

 _The girls from Ba-Sing-Sē._

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To the other girls' surprise, several of the samurai picked up the melody and sang along with Naho for the final verse:

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 _It's a long, long way to Ba-Sing-Sē_

 _But they kiss so sweet_

 _That you've really got to meet_

 _The girls from Ba-Sing-Sē._

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"What eez zat song?" Apolline asked quietly.

"Just an old nursery rhyme. I remember my Uba singing it to me as a little child. By the sounds of it," Naho nodded towards the armoured men and women, "I'm not the only one."

"Eet eez a very pretty song. Zough I weel be keeping my leeps to myself, zank you."

"What, am I not desirable enough for you?" teased Pandora with mock hurt. She shot the short Veela a sultry grin.

Apolline didn't notice, her eyes fixed on Naho. "So you and ze rest of ze people of ze Land of Fire are supposedly ze descendants of zis Fire Nation of ze past?"

Naho nodded. "Some more likely than others. For example, my family, the Hi-no-Kagutsuchi Clan. My uncle, the Hi-no-Kuni, claims direct descent – the 93rd generation, father-to-son, to be exact – from Fire Lord Irōh, the son of Izumi daughter of Zukō son of Ōzai son of Azulon son of Sōzin son of Hi-no-Kagu-Tsuchi son of Izanagi-no-ōkami son of Ama-no-Hashidate son of Heaven itself. Irōh was the last of the great line of Fire Lords. The final victor of the Hundred Year War."

"Hundred Year War?" asked Pandora curiously.

"A great war that raged across east, south and central Magical Asia twenty-two hundred years ago. It occurred concurrently with the time known as the Warring States Period or the Seven Kingdoms Period of the mundane Middle Kingdom. If you'd like me to explain it all properly, you had better settle in, for it would not take hours but phases of the moon! By Sarāda, we might even have dug our way out of this dank hole by then!"

"Don't even zink about it," Apolline said firmly to Pandora, with a warning glance for the taller blonde (whose eyes were blazing with keen interest once more). "I zink we can table zat discussion for another time. For ze moment, let us focus on our task. Eef you like, Naho can teach us some more traditional songs. For ze local colour, oui? … Did eet suddenly get warmer in 'ere?"

An urgent series of cries from the samurai interrupted their discussion. The temperature was indeed rising, and a portion of the ceiling had begun to glow with an ominous red light.

"Susano-o's beard! Lava bending!" bellowed Naho, grabbing her fellow mahōshōjo and dragging them hastily away from the section of rock above them that had started to smoulder and drip. Plumes of choking vapour began seeping into the cavern as the debris around them sublimated.

"Explain!" demanded Pandora, coughing at the putrid odour.

"Those with strong affinities to both earth and fire elements can bend both at once, creating lava – extremely rare, and extremely dangerous! Up onto these rocks, quickly!"

The group clambered up onto the highest piles of rock and slag available as the ceiling liquefied and began pouring down into the cavern. The glowing red and yellow liquid rock began to rise higher. Pandora, Apolline and Naho quickly cast Bubble-head Charms on everybody to stave off the thick poisonous fumes.

"Zut alors, we are trapped like rat flambé!" Apolline declared.

"Curse the completely understandable and almost insignificant mistake that got us into this situation!" bellowed Pandora.

The roof continued to melt and pour down onto the floor, the lava-line increasing ever higher. The girls and samurai crowded onto the highest point available and searched desperately for a means of escape.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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Eleazar Sanguini had spent many decades in service to the Volturi Conclave as a member of the elite Guard. A role that had sent him all around the world to explore many strange and varied vampire cultures, and many strangely talented individuals. It was this extensive experience that allowed him to compare the stunning news he'd received this day with prior behaviour of his erstwhile lieges. It was this mental exercise that eventually led the Spanish vampire onto a stream of thought that he did not like one iota. And yet, his own logic drove him on to the awful conclusions. Conclusions he couldn't bear to articulate. It was left to Edward Cullen to read them from his minds and explain to the rest of the party.

"He was trying to understand why so many of the Volturi would come to punish us. It's not the way they do things. Certainly, we are the biggest mature coven they've dealt with, but in the past other covens have joined to protect themselves, and they never presented much of a challenge despite their numbers. We are more closely bonded, and that's a factor, but not a huge one. He was remembering other times that covens have been punished, for one thing or the other, and a pattern occurred to him. It was a pattern that the rest of the guard would never have noticed, since Eleazar was the one passing the pertinent intelligence privately to Aro. A pattern that only repeated every other century or so."

"What was this pattern?" Carmen queried softly. Eleazar had to turn away, unable to bear looking at her.

"Aro does not often personally attend a punishing expedition. But in the past, when Aro wanted something in particular, it was never long before evidence turned up proving that this coven or that coven had committed some unpardonable crime. The ancients would decide to go along to watch the guard administer justice. And then, once the coven was all but destroyed, Aro would grant a pardon to one member whose thoughts, he would claim, were particularly repentant. Always, it would turn out that this vampire had the gift Aro had admired. Always, this person was given a place with the guard. The gifted vampire was won over quickly, always so grateful for the honour. There were no exceptions. There is one among the guard. Her name is Chelsea. She has influence over the emotional ties between people. She can both loosen and secure these ties. She could make someone feel bonded to the Volturi, to want to belong, to want to please them ..."

Eleazar interjected bitterly, "We all understood why Chelsea was important! In a fight, if we could separate allegiances between allied covens, we could defeat them that much more easily. If we could distance the innocent members of a coven emotionally from the guilty, justice could be done without unnecessary brutality — the guilty could be punished without interference, and the innocent could be spared. Otherwise, it was impossible to keep the coven from lighting as a whole. So Chelsea would break the ties that bound them together. It seemed a great kindness to me, evidence of Aro's mercy. I did suspect that Chelsea kept our own band more tightly knit, but that, too, was a good thing. It made us more effective. It helped us coexist more easily."

"How strong is her gift?" the Denali matriarch asked, eyes flicking anxiously to each member of her family.

He gave an equivocal Spanish half-shrug. "I was able to leave with Carmen. But anything weaker than the bond between partners is in danger. In a normal coven, at least. Those are weaker bonds than those in our family, though. Abstaining from human blood makes us more civilized — lets us form true bonds of love. I doubt she could turn our allegiances, Tanya. I could only think that the reason Aro had decided to come himself, to bring so many with him, is because his goal is not punishment but acquisition. He needs to be there to control the situation. But he needs the entire Guard for protection from such a large, gifted coven. On the other hand, that leaves the other ancients unprotected in Volterra. Too risky — someone might try to take advantage. So they all come together. How else could he be sure to preserve the gifts that he wants? He must want them very badly."

"From what I saw of his thoughts last spring, Aro's never wanted anything more than he wants Alice," Edward hissed.

"Is that why Alice left?" Bella demanded.

"I think it must be. To keep Aro from gaining the thing he wants most of all. To keep her power out of his hands."

"He wants you, too!"

"Not nearly as much. I can't really give him anything more than he already has. And of course that's dependent on his finding a way to force me to do his will. He knows me, and he knows how unlikely that is."

Eleazar snorted at the young vampire's naïveté. Sometimes he wondered how Edward had ever managed to live over 100 years. "He also knows your weaknesses," he stated the obvious. Anyone with half an eye in their head could see that the quickest and easiest way to get the vampire legilimens to do something was to go through his wife. And vice versa.

"It's nothing we need to discuss now," Edward replied mulishly.

"He probably wants your mate, too, regardless. He must have been intrigued by a talent that could defy him in its human incarnation," Eleazar continued on remorselessly.

"I think the Volturi were waiting for this — for some pretext. They couldn't know what form their excuse would come in, but the plan was already in place for when it did come. That's why Alice saw their decision before Irina triggered it. The decision was already made, just waiting for the pretence of a justification," Edward mused slowly.

"If the Volturi are abusing the trust all immortals have placed in them …" Carmen trailed off.

"Does it matter? Who would believe it?" Unbidden, ancient words rose from edges of Eleazar's mind, words far older than he and his vampire family's lifespans combined: _'Who would have believed our report? And to whom has the arm of HaShem been revealed?'_ He began his agitated pacing once more, ignoring the irritated looks Tanya was shooting him. "And even if others could be convinced that the Volturi are exploiting their power, how would it make any difference? No one can stand against them."

"Though some of us are apparently insane enough to try," Kate observed sardonically.

Eleazar sighed to himself. What in Ivan the Terrible's terrible vampiric name had his kin gotten themselves into?

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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Albus Dumbledore and his Order arrived in Konoha-gakure from the Land of Iron several days later in a flash of phoenix fire. They had proceeded directly there after resolving the fallout from the destructive firefight that had erupted at the disastrous Five Kage Summit.

The Professor entered Konoha in state as the Hogokage, representing Hogowarutsu-gakure no Sato of Magical Europe, and as formal emissary of the Emperor, to officially meet with the newly-recovered Hokage, Senjū Tsunade.

Lily, Mary, Remus and Lily Luna went out to meet their Headmaster and escort him thorough Konoha. As soon as they set eyes on him they wished they hadn't. Dumbledore was sporting the broad-brimmed rice-growers' hat typical of a Kage. What was not typical was the colour design of bright pink and magenta stripes with little ringed planets gambolling around. A lime green strip of cloth hung down behind to protect his neck from the sun. The Hogwarts school logo was embossed on the front in the place where the kanji representing the particular nation usually sat. The hat of state clashed horribly with his deep red beard, azure-and-peach checked kimono, pure white hakama and golden-green haori. The werewolf gritted his teeth and the girls shielded their faces from the eye-watering sight.

Dumbledore smiled in amusement at the sight of the giant castle in the backdrop, that bore a more-than-passing resemblance to a certain magical castle in Scotland. Dobby was frantically carving the face of Peter Pettigrew sir into the mountainside just below it. The giant face was angled so as to be able to meet the eyes of the faces of the opposite Mt Hogakemore.

"Ah, the elves got a bit overenthusiastic," Lily said, scratching the back of her neck sheepishly. "Uh, welcome to Hogwarts' Japanese Embassy." Their ANBU guards were not amused.

"Splendid," the aged wizard replied cheerily, "The Hi-no-Kuni was this very morning advising me of his disappointment at what he and his wife perceived as the inadequate state of accommodation whenever they visited Konoha village, no doubt they will be most pleased that this lacuna has been rectified. Now, shall we away?" leading the English students onward, ignoring the furious glares of the gathered Leaf shinobi.

Dumbledore was indeed correct in his assumption, as the Daimyō of the Land of Fire and Madame Shijimi were delighted by the new FGAMLDMPPPBMSSSAHWACASTAAD upon their arrival the following day. They and their retinue promptly took up residence. To Dobby's great displeasure. However, Lily was able to avoid a diplomatic incident by convincing the truculent house elf that these were dear friends of Master Pettigrew, and as he was a guest in their lands, so Dobby should treat them as Master Pettigrew's family. Dobby was eventually mollified.

The lordly family and the house elf's reconciliation was made public once Madame Shijimi managed to prevail upon Dobby to carve additional faces into 'Mt Mighty Peter Pettigrew Sovereign Lord of the World'. The residents of Konoha were soon 'rewarded' with the sight of the giant stone faces of their elderly daimyō, his plump bejewelled wife and a distressed-looking cat with a ribbon in its right ear. Smaller in size and flanking the great rat-like head of Dobby's master, of course. Nobody could be seen as more prominent than the Greatest Wizard in the World.

All grumbling about the wanton graffitiing of the landscape was blithely ignored.

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	33. 30 Dollar Dollar Bill, Y'All

**Author's Note:**

This is both a HP reworking of "Back to the Future" themes, and a soft reboot/reworking of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" by Rorschach's Blot. Used with the permission of their original authors (except for "Back to the Future" of course). The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter or anything else. Full disclaimer in the Table of Contents.

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Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.

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Canon-compliant. HP&DH compliant (except the Epilogue). HP&CC compliant (except the conclusion). FB&WTFT compliant. Pottermore compliant (mostly). Some crossover with: Naruto, Ranma ½, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Twilight, Lord of the Rings and Avatar: The Last Airbender. Primarily Harry Potter though.

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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "The Lie I've Lived" by jbern.

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Question of the Week: What was going through the publishers' heads when they included the wrong prices of the books in galleons? If you're going to go to all the trouble of including wizarding costs, surely you'd aim to get the conversion right (simply divide/multiply by 5!)?

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 **Part 6: The Syndicate vs The Economy**

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 **Chapter 30 – Dollar Dollar Bill, Y'all**

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Sometimes it's good to be the smartest rat in the sewer.

― Michael Houbrick

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Jean-Sébastien Delacour frowned as he considered the information in the letter his wife had just given him.

"What could have alarmed our daughter so much that she felt it necessary to flee from Hogwarts and travel halfway across the world to Japan to 'purge the Death Eater scum' from the face of the earth?!" he demanded.

Amarante shrugged in that ambiguous Gallic fashion. "What will you do?"

"First I shall find out everything that is going on with these 'soldiers of Grindelwald' that have been harassing her!"

"And then?"

"And then drag Apolline home from Japan, by the ear if necessary!"

"And I shall accompany you."

"But, my love –"

"I shall accompany you," Amarante repeated firmly, eyes flashing with white-blue fire. "My baby needs me, and no hordes of dark wizards from the wild regions of Mahōnihon will get in my way!"

"As you wish," he conceded reluctantly, knowing that his wife would inevitably have her way with this, as with everything. He began to mentally review all of the potential suspects who may the information he was seeking. Two in particular seemed to stand out. It'd be nice to have a bit more information before launching a raid and revealing his hand, but he'd worked with less in the past. Tapping his golden wristwatch with his wand, he put out the alert to get the tactical team together, this wasn't the time to take any chances.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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Jean-Sébastien watched with a satisfied smile as the tactical team breached the wards around the Rosiers' Manor in Alsace and stormed the house, emerging a few minutes later with the restrained and enraged Lord Matthieu Rosier.

"You'll pay for this, Delacour!" he bellowed. "I'll see you broken for this!"

"I have no doubt that the French and British Ministers will rush to your aid as soon as they find out you've been arrested," Jean-Sébastien agreed calmly. "One of the many reasons we're keeping this quiet." He caught a flash of shock on the man's face just before his men slid a black sack over his head. "Search the whole place, I don't want a stone left unturned!"

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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Jean-Sébastien felt sick as he looked over the report of Matthieu and Odette Rosier's interrogations. The pair had spilled everything, names, account numbers, and a laundry list of crimes. Chief among which was the aid they'd given to their good friend of the family Gellert Grindelwald, who'd somehow escaped Nurmengard and was now busily rebuilding his army in Mahōnihon.

"I want everyone on this list in irons right now," he growled to his underlings.

"Many of them will flee the country once they discover the Rosiers have been taken," his assistant reported nervously. "Some may be difficult to locate."

"Did I ask for excuses?" he queried sweetly. "Or did I ask for results?"

"Right away, sir."

Jean-Sébastien looked over the next report he'd received. Information from the interrogation of Béatrice Averrie. A look of disgust plastered on his face.

"What's this?" he demanded.

"The woman's a potions mistress," his assistant said smoothly. "It is a miracle the Veritaserum was able to get even this much out of her."

"I want everything she knows and I want it now!" Jean-Sébastien growled.

"I want your office, a solid gold latrine and an easy life with no responsibilities," his assistant retorted, a bit of testiness colouring her voice.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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The two would-be assassins eyed their captor with something akin to amusement as she went about trying to intimidate them into speaking. That was one of the problems with amateurs, they reflected, all bluff.

"Help me move them to the end of the dock please, Sorbet."

"Yes, Madame!" the house elf agreed cheerfully.

The two men allowed themselves to be taken and offered no resistance when the elf forced them to sit at the edge.

"Left one first, Sorbet."

"Yes, Madame!"

"What are you doing?" Lefty asked in a tone of mild annoyance.

"I'm attaching weights to your feet so you don't float," Amarante replied calmly. The fact that she was about to execute the man was no excuse not to be courteous.

"Just who do you think you're fooling?" Righty laughed. "I'll admit that it's a good setup, but your mark has to believe that you're capable of carrying out a threat if you want it to have any chance to make them talk."

"Good to know," Amarante mused. "Don't you think so, Sorbet?"

"Yes, Madame Delacour," the house elf agreed. "Weights are on, Madame Delacour."

"Thank you, my dear."

"Tell you what," Lefty began. "You let us go right now and we won't tell the Gendarmes what you tried?"

"Are you perchance referring to the Gendarmes who are watching us from the end of this pier?"

"Eugh?"

Amarante put the flat of her hand on the centre of the man's back and pushed. The man's brief scream cut off with a loud splash.

"Right one, please."

"Yes, Madame," Sorbet agreed.

"You just pushed him in!" Righty screamed in shock.

"I did," she agreed, placing the palm of her hand on the flat of the man's back. "Finished, Sorbet?"

"Almost, Madame."

"You can't do this!"

"Why not?" Amarante asked curiously.

"You're Lady Delacour! You're supposed to be a good guy!"

"Ready, Madame."

"Wait!" the man screamed. "I'll talk, I'll tell you everything I know!"

"Talk fast," the Veela ordered.

"Paul Touvier!" the man said loudly. "He's the one who hired us!"

"What do you think, Sorbet?"

"Sorbet thinks we should ask his friend," the house elf replied.

"Good idea," Amarante said with a grin. "Pull his friend up." She gave a sharp push, sending the man to the bottom as Sorbet raised his accomplice.

The house elf levitated the shivering man onto the dock and slapped him across the face to get his attention.

"Your friend told me something interesting," the Veela matriarch said, sounding as if she were discussing a subject no more interesting than the weather. "It bought you a few minutes up here. Care to try for a few more?"

"Paul Touvier," the man gasped.

"He the only one?"

"Yes," the man gasped.

"Wrong answer," Amarante said flatly.

"Perhaps bad men need some time to get their stories straight," Sorbet suggested.

"Perhaps you're right, Sorbet."

"No!" the man sobbed. "Please no."

Another push sent the man back to the bottom.

"Any thoughts on dinner, Sorbet?"

"Sorbet was thinking about getting some of those nice spiny fishies from the fishmonger, Madame Delacour."

"Bouillabaisse or something else?"

"Sorbet isn't confident in her Bretagnaise bouillabaisse, Madame," the house elf admitted in shame.

"The Mollières tell me it takes a while to get right," Amarante assured her. "I'm sure you'll get it right eventually and I'm sure that whatever you make will be delicious no matter what it is."

"Thank you, Madame," Sorbet said, puffing her chest out in pride. "Shall Sorbet bring the bad man back?"

"I suppose," the Lady agreed.

The second man was soon back on the dock, gasping for air.

"You didn't tell me everything," Amarante told the man. "Care to try again?"

"Maurice Papillion is the one at the top! I'll tell you everything I know, just please don't –"

"Let's see what the other one has to say."

"Yes, Madame," Sorbet agreed.

.

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"Looks like another suicide," Inspector Charles LaRousse Dreyfus said seriously.

"But ... but, sir," his assistant, Deputy Auror Ramón Clouseau, simpered. "He was beaten to death."

"And?" Dreyfus yawned.

"And here's another signed note from a witness confessing his witnessing of the whole thing."

"You actually believe that's real?" Charles snorted.

"It's been notarised, as have all the other witness statements saying that Maurice Papillion was murdered."

"If you were any sort of detective, you'd know how unreliable witnesses can be."

"So you're saying that Papillion beat himself to death in front of several witnesses whom he somehow convinced that he was murdered?"

"He always was a cunning bastard," Dreyfus agreed, setting the witness statements on fire. "Well, I'm not going to fall for it or his plan to frame some poor innocent after his death."

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Sergeant Evangéline Arsenault nodded to Inspector Dreyfus and Lieutenant Jean-Baptiste de Grenouille as they entered the conference room simultaneously. Inside there were already another 50 people milling about. The group of law enforcement officials hastily took their seats as Lord and Lady Delacour took to the stage.

"My friends," Jean-Sébastien began, "we thank you for all your hard work in our latest series of raids. Your efforts have not gone unrewarded – we have obtained a large cache of papers, weapons and suspects. Reports from their interrogations do indeed confirm the rumours of a large-scale operation to move persons and materiel out of the country to a new staging post in Magical Asia." He took a deep breath. "There is other news … of a more personal sort … my teenage daughter Apolline, whom many of you have met over the years, has taken it upon herself to chase after them to bring them to justice."

Surprised mutterings greeted that announcement. Arsenault and Dreyfus shared a shocked look.

"My wife and I are leaving France to visit Japan tomorrow. We will leave no stone unturned in finding her back and retrieving her to our bosom. I … I cannot ask nor order any of you to accompany us on what is a private matter …"

"Enough of that!" bellowed Dreyfus. "I am coming and that is that! Little Apolline shall not be left alone and friendless in a far-off barbarian land, not while I have anything to say about it!"

Arsenault immediately stood as well, nodding her agreement. Around them, Auror after Auror stood to declare their support.

"My friends," Jean-Sébastien choked, "we thank you."

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The latest meeting of the Hogsmeade Auxiliary of the Hogwarts Army had concluded. As the HAHA members drifted out of the Hog's Head and away to their next engagements, the motley crew who remained, Ron, James, Frank, Xenophilius, Vernon and the newly-inaugurated Richard Evans, pondered how to spend the remainder of their day.

"So Mr Evans, what is your profession?" Frank asked politely.

"Call me Richard, daddy, and banking's my bag. I grind for The Man in the City."

"I, uh, see. I never understood anything about economics myself, Richard Daddy," the Longbottom scion admitted.

"Don't get hung up, almost nobody understands it," Richard reassured him. "And with the tripped-out way the wiz mulah market runs, I'm willing to bet you most wand-sharks don't either, you dig?"

"What do you mean?" asked Frank curiously.

"I mean that whoever set the whole megilla up was one whacked-out turkey! Here's the skinny: it's approximately five or six pounds to the galleon. One galleon is worth 17 sickles, and one sickle is 29 knuts. That means it's 493 knuts to the galleon. Which means that one knut equals 0.002 of a galleon and one sickle is 0.059 of a galleon. Haven't these goblin turkeys ever heard of the base 10 system?"

"I doubt it, Richard Daddy," James said. "I don't even know what it is."

Ron, Frank and Xenophilius nodded their agreement.

Richard and Vernon stared at them.

"Er, right," Vernon said, shaking his head at the substandard education these poor freaks were forced to endure. Probably explained why they refused to get proper jobs and earn honest livings like decent folk. Looked like it was up to him to give these ignoramuses a taste of the real world, perhaps it wasn't too late for them. "Why don't we go to London, make a day of it?" Maybe he'd introduce them to some of his business colleagues.

"I agree," said Odd immediately. His fascination with the man's gigantic afro meant he was more than willing to trek through strange climes to learn its secrets.

The others were in agreement, a chance to be shown around muggle London with some genuine muggle tour guides was not an opportunity that arose often. Not that the wizarding tour guides of London were _bad_ , per se. It's just that one got rather tired of them getting lost along the way all the time. James had visited Putney, Dover, the Shetlands and the inside of the lion enclosures of the Birmingham Zoo more times than he could count.

"I'm good to go, I've got money," Ron announced. Odd and Frank did too.

James said, "I'll need to get some gold out of my Gringotts account."

"I can dig it," Richard agreed. "If you don't mind my nosing, what kind of interest do you get from your account?"

"Interest?" James said blankly.

Vernon and Richard shared a look.

"It's the bread a bank gives you for having an account with them," Richard said. "No idea what I'm talking about, huh?"

"Afraid not," James said apologetically.

"Well ... ask for a statement and I'll explain what it all means if you like."

"Thanks," James replied.

"Shall we go then?"

"Where are the others?" asked Frank.

"My girlfriend wanted to spend a bit of girl-time with Miss Umbridge, Mrs Evans, Mrs Tonks and the McKinnons," Vernon replied stiffly. "Least that's what she said, could be they're plotting against us."

"Plotting against us?" Ron asked nervously.

"They're women. Wouldn't put it past them," Vernon grunted darkly.

"They don't really do that, do they?" Ron whispered to James.

James shrugged. "No idea, mate. Alice told me she was taking them out for a mani-pedi, whatever that is. I suggested they might want to do something fun instead, but what do I know?" he snorted.

"Are you really okay with your daughter ditching school to swan around those barbarian Japanese foreigners unsupervised?" Vernon muttered to Richard.

"Mellow out, man, she's on her pilgrimage. Her old lady and I went to India, she's gone to the Far East. Lily-flower's a clever chick, good noodle on her shoulders. As long as she keeps on truckin' everything will be copacetic," reassured Richard. "While we're in London, I'll introduce you cats to my broker, I think you'll like Onslow. He's a keen dude and the fact that he doesn't charge a commission when I make my own trades is the only thing that lets me bring in the gravy as much as I do."

"Why doesn't he charge you?" asked Ron.

"Might be 'coz he's my main man," Richard replied. "But it's probably because he married my bird's sister. I choose not to speculate."

"He's your brother-in-law?"

"With a name like Onslow?" Vernon muttered, "Only one extended family would inflict that on a child."

"Oh."

"Isn't that the same extended family you're interested in joining?" Richard asked lightly.

Vernon flushed in embarrassment.

"I'd suggest that we stop by your bank first to get your statement," Richard continued. "Might not be a bad idea to run it past Onslow to get his opinion."

"Fine with me," James agreed. The group walked through the Diagon Alley to the bank. "Excuse me," James said to one of the tellers.

Vernon took one look at the creatures behind the service desks and immediately stated that he'd wait for them outside.

"What is it?" asked the goblin impatiently.

"I wanted to get an account statement," James said. "If you don't mind."

"Key," the goblin demanded. "There will also be a one galleon fee charged against your account."

"That's fine."

"Here is the statement to all three of your accounts," the creature handed James a scroll. "Each one has a separate listing for deposits, withdrawals, and fees. Will that be all?"

"Three accounts?"

"Your trust account, your Heir account and the Potter business account. Was there anything else you needed?"

"No, thank you."

"Next!" the goblin called out.

James walked back to Richard, Ron, Frank and Xeno and handed the older man the parchment. "Could you help me make sense of this?"

"Sure thing, daddy," Richard agreed. "Let's see ... hmmm, this is a bit unreal."

"What is it?"

"It says here that they're charging you a fee of one galleon a month per account to maintain your accounts," Richard said with an odd look on his face. "I wouldn't stress too much about that just now, you're also taking in 500 galleons a month from ... somewhere. Uh, this account here is your trust account. It has about 300,000 galleons in it. This second account is your Heir account and it has about two million galleons in it. This last account is the Potter family's business account and it has ... wowzers, 15 million galleons in it! So your assets total roughly," the man paused for a few seconds, "at an approximately six pounds per galleon conversion rate, roughly 103.8 million pounds."

"Far out," James said in shock. "I never realised I had that much."

"Shame they aren't really made out of gold," Richard said with a laugh. "Or you'd have quite a bit more bread than that!"

"Uh ... I think they _are_ made out of gold," Odd said slowly. "Least that's what I was always told."

Ron, Frank and James nodded in agreement.

"Why don't we rap with one of the goblins?" Richard suggested. "Before we get tight about this."

"Ok," James agreed.

"Excuse me," Richard asked one of the tellers, "but I had a question."

"What is it?" the Cokblok demanded.

"How much gold is in a galleon?"

"Galleons are minted by the Goblin nation and certified to carry exactly three pennyweights of gold," Cokblok explained. "They are then charmed to prevent tampering and as such, a small charge is placed against each coin for the guarantee."

"Is that why I can't cut it?" Ron asked.

"Yes," Cokblok agreed. "In order to protect Gringotts' reputation, wizarding currency has several protection and durability charms."

"What about bullion?" Richard asked. "Since a galleon is more expensive because of the charms and all that jazz, it stands to reason that James should be able to convert his galleons into bullion at a fairly good rate."

"Gringotts charges a 10 percent fee for every guaranteed coin," Cokblok replied. "So one galleon would buy an equal amount of gold less 10 percent."

"Can you transfer to a muggle bank?" Richard demanded.

"Deal with muggles!?" Cokblok gasped in horror and disgust. The other goblin tellers subtly moved further away.

"Yeah I dig," Richard said with a satisfied nod. "Brothers, can I confab with you outside for a moment?"

"What is it?" James asked, once he'd raised the privacy shield spell at the muggle banker's urging.

"James," Richard began. "The average value of one troy ounce of gold for the last half of 1976 was approximately 67 pounds. That's just over three galleons. In your trust and Heir accounts you have access to 2.3 million galleons, which is approximately 767 thousand troy ounces of gold. Less 10 percent equals 690 thousand, which is worth ... 46 million 230 thousand pounds!"

"That's a lot of money," James said in shock.

"Yes it is," Richard agreed. "If you include the total of all three accounts, 17.3 million galleons, that comes to a total of … 347 million 730 thousand pounds!"

"Sweet St George!" Vernon began mopping his forehead with his hanky.

"James, I think it might be a good idea to hang tight until we have a chance to talk with Onslow before you do anything with your mulah," Richard said slowly.

"If you say so," the Potter heir agreed.

"More than a quarter of a billion pounds," Richard whispered to himself in shock. "I'll be right back, cats, I just want to convert my pocket money into gold before we go."

"Okay," the boys chorused.

Richard re-joined them a few minutes later. "Let's book."

They walked out of the Leaky Cauldron to the shag wag, and drove into the City. Xenophilius had used his time at the bank productively, and now sported a blond afro strikingly similar to the tall muggle's. Ron couldn't help but feel a twinge déjà vu for the twins. Richard pulled up in front of a large building.

"This is where he has his office," Richard explained. "The very beating heart of Squaresville."

They got out of the car and took the elevator up several floors.

"Nanoo nanoo, Onslow," Richard called out as he walked through one of the doors. "How's it hangin'?"

"Wotcher, Richard, Vernon. Well enough, considering I'm sitting here completely surrounded by no beer. How's the family?"

"Gas. Let me introduce you to some cool cats that are schoolfriends of Lily-flower: James, Frank, Gilderoy and Xenomorph."

"Always a pleasure to meet my niece's friends," Onslow said. "What brings you here?"

"This," Richard said as he dumped a large bar of gold on his desk.

"I'll presume you didn't steal this," Onslow said with a smile.

"Bite your tongue – I got it legally," Richard agreed.

"First thing we need to do is make sure it's real. One moment." The man reached into his desk and pulled out a metal letter opener. "Well," he said as he scratched the gold bar. "It's heavy and soft."

"For the sake of argument," Richard began. "What would you suggest I do if I came across a large amount of these?"

"Refine it and sell it," Onslow said immediately. "Or refine it and issue certificates, or refine it and hold it, or combine these things. For the sake of argument, the Swiss don't consider tax evasion a crime. So if you had a way to get it to a Swiss refiner then I'd suggest that you bank it in Switzerland and put it in a numbered account in a Swiss bank. The Geneva Canton has some of the strictest laws, so I'd look there first."

"Thanks brother," Richard said. "What about this small amount?"

"I know a couple of jewellers that might be willing to buy it," Onslow said. "But I couldn't sell much to them."

"Would you get a better deal if you traded it for finished stuff?"

"It's possible," Onslow said with a shrug. "This isn't really my area."

"Do whatever you think best," Richard ordered. "Who's the specialist in gold?"

"That'd be Lawrence down the hall."

"Thanks, daddy. Before I forget, you wouldn't happen to know what the interest rate is in a Swiss account would you?"

"In a money market account it averages about three to four percent, Swiss bankers are very good at managing money."

"Cool beans, I'll see you at the next family shindig," waving, Richard ushered the group into the elevator. "Hahaha! This'll really stick it to The Man! Oh yes it will!" he rubbed his hands gleefully. "Tell me, you wiz folk have ways of getting to Switzerland in the twinkling of an eye that don't require passports, correct?"

The boys nodded.

"I believe that there is also a Gringotts branch in Zurich," Frank offered sensibly. "We can process our transactions there."

"Sharp lad. Here's the skinny, cats: we each convert all our galleons to bullion at Gringotts. Then we either sell the bullion on the gold markets directly, through Lawrence or some other intermediary, or else we hire some wiz jeweller to make it into earrings or brooches or thrones or some jazz that we can on-sell to normal jewellers on this side. Or we just sell the lot off in bulk in India, China and the Gulf states, they're always hungry for gold, no matter what state it's in. I trust we can get to those places easily enough too?"

The boys nodded again.

"Out of sight! We each open our own numbered Swiss bank accounts and deposit all the pounds, rupees, yuan, dollars and whatever else therein. We then withdraw said currency and bring it to Gringotts to convert into galleons and begin the whole cycle anew."

"How much will this make?" asked Vernon in glee.

"Each galleon will net us roughly 20 pounds from gold sales. At the current exchange rate of between five and six galleons per pound, those 20 pounds will net us between three and four galleons. Which will then net us between 60 and 80 pounds. Which will then net us between 10 and 16 galleons. Which will net us between 200 and 320 pounds. And so on and so forth. Geometric increase."

The eyes of the other males were now wide as dinner plates.

"The goblins won't like this," Frank murmured.

"That's the understatement of the century! They'll go positively out of their minds!" James declared.

"Which is why we need to spread out our operations," finished Richard. "How many Gringotts branches are there around the world?"

Shrugs.

"Someone needs to find that out. Once we know, we can divvy them up, and each person does the circuit. Go to one branch for galleons-to-bullion exchange, then the next for muggle currency-to-galleons, then the next for galleons-to-bullion and so forth. That way there's a different person doing the exchanges each time at a branch office. The goblins will wise up to us eventually, they're like the casinos, and then they'll cut us off. Banned for life or some such. But by spreading things out all over the world, it'll hopefully take them a lot longer to catch on. And we'll have a lot more in our numbered Swiss accounts at the end than we otherwise would."

"And we don't have to stick to goblins!" Odd added excitedly. "Aren't there dwarven banks, and elvish banks, and gnome banks, and Kraken banks, and banks run by unspeakable eldritch horrors? We can hit them all up too!"

"Right on!" complimented Richard. "Someone needs to rustle up a list of every magical bank in the world and their rates. Then we 'hit them' all up! Best to get our women involved as well: the more hands on deck, the more exchanges we can do; and the less likely we'll be recognised for coming to the banks for gold all the time."

"If we don't want to be recognised, we could always brew up some polyjuice and turn up as all sorts of different people. Like our enemies, for example, or anyone we want to frame," added Ron. "There's no security checks or Thieves' Downfall or anything else for people who just turn up at the lobby, make exchanges at the tellers and leave. All that security stuff is for people wanting to go down into the vaults!"

"I never thought I'd say this, but I guess I was wrong – there actually _is_ something good to be said for that freakish unnatural world and its freakish unnatural economy!" cheered Vernon.

The wizards rolled their eyes but held their peace.

"Then our syndicate is hereby formed, o my brothers. Yeah, baby, arbitrage!"

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Ginny wondered how this tiny store in this ruined village in the middle of the wild regions in the middle of Magical Asia even managed to stay afloat if the wares that the proprietor (who sported the rather odd name of TenTen) had placed in front of her for inspection were representative of the standard ninja equipment. Heck, the place wasn't even a store, just a bunch of planks and rubble stuck and stapled together with a sign on top which resembled a vagrant's hovel. She was more than a bit disappointed by the selection of junk on the racks.

"Anything that doesn't weigh five pounds more than it should?" she asked, on the brink of leaving the store in disgust.

"Trick walking sticks have always been rather popular," TenTen said quickly, sensing the opportunity to make a sale slipping out of her fingers. "Try this one. Self-transfigures into a sword, self-adjusts for height, elegant, and capable of channelling jutsus," handing the cane over.

"How do I turn it into a sword?" Ginny asked. The ninja demonstrated and Ginny took two practice swings before putting it down. "No."

"Something wrong?"

"That's not a sword," Ginny explained. "The balance is wrong, the weight is too high, and the edge couldn't cut butter."

The girl gave her a look of frank appraisal. "How bout this?" she asked, handing the Englishwoman another stick. "Just will the blade to appear."

Ginny made a few practice swings, they were enough to capture her interest so she decided to give the blade a closer look.

"Toledo steel," TenTen commented. "You want a good sword, you take it and transfigure it into a stick, other way around doesn't work so well. Won't channel jutsus, wouldn't recommend any that do anyway, but it will make a nasty club if you don't want to run someone through."

"Any other weapons that were made to be used?" Ginny asked, putting the sword aside.

"Not really," TenTen admitted. "Most of the good stuff has already been requisitioned by the Hokage for the war effort. Nowadays, most people come here to pick up something to decorate their houses with, 90 percent of what I've got in stock at the moment is poorly made junk. I might have something in the back if you'd like me to check?"

"Please," Ginny agreed.

The shinobi departed and returned a couple minutes later carrying a foot-long wrapped package which she placed on the counter.

"Found a horse pick and a couple of mundane Robbins punch daggers. Free if you buy the sword."

"Deal," Ginny said.

It was a good selection of armaments. The two muggle knives that currently held her attention were made by Robbins of Dudley during the Great War and featured aluminium handles and wickedly sharp dagger-like blades. The similarity ended there. The first punch knife looked fairly standard, a flat pointed blade with a skull-shaped knuckleduster handle. The second was odd, it had a large cylindrical fist-like grip with a horizontal blade protruding from the space between where one would have their index and middle fingers. They both also carried the tell-tale tingle of magic items when Ginny handled them. Nodding her acceptance, Ginny slipped them into a pocket and dropped a handful of koban onto the counter top.

Ginny glanced at her boyfriend's mother's (and Lily Luna's grandmother's) younger-counterpart-from-another-dimension-who-seemed-to-be-developing-in-a-completely-different-direction-from-the-late-Lily-Potter. She really did need to find something for her to carry. Mary was easy, just find something that looked dangerous and the girl would cheerfully tote it everywhere. Giving her that claymore was nothing less than inspired. Lily on the other hand …

"What?" the other crimsonhead demanded. "Why are you staring at me?"

"Trying to figure out a way to get you to start carrying a knife around," Ginny admitted.

"Get me one and teach me to use it," Lily said, turning her attention back to the diagram of chakra points on the wall.

"Really?" she asked, somewhat incredulously.

"Yes," Lily said firmly.

"Huh, I thought it'd be harder than this," Ginny admitted. She'd pegged the Evans girl as much more of a wet blanket who would take far more convincing (i.e., nagging) before she'd play ball. Perhaps the duo needed to re-evaluate her ancestor-clone. She pulled out the punch knife with the skull-shaped knuckleduster grip. "Why don't you take this one till I can source another?" she suggested.

"No," the former Head Girl said, dismissing the knife with a glance.

"What?"

"One, you need to teach me how to use it first. Two, it has a skull. Find one that looks nicer for me," Lily demanded.

"Looks nicer?"

"Yes," she agreed.

"This is a very good design," Ginny protested.

"Are there other good designs that are also aesthetically pleasing?"

"Yes," she admitted.

"Get me one of them," Lily ordered.

"But ..."

"Have you forgotten that I'm a girl, Lily Luna Potter?" Lily growled.

"Hey, I'm a girl too! And I thought you'd be practical enough to put function over form, Lilith Evans."

"It's Lily, not Lilith, not Lillian, not Lizabeth, not short for anything at all, got it? And you've admitted that there are other functioning designs that have more pleasing forms," she sniffed. "Function first, form second. That has function first and ugly second. I refuse to carry it."

"Are you willing to learn with it, at least?" Ginny asked, sighing.

"Of course. Why the sudden obsession with weapons, anyway?"

"Just a little something called a war that we happen to be in the middle of," she said dryly. "Never hurts to be prepared."

"You're carrying so many knives that you're starting to clank!" Lily replied. "That's going a bit beyond 'prepared'! Either hide them better or put a silencing charm on them or something."

"I will, thanks."

"What else do you have on you?" asked TenTen eagerly. Ginny recognised the gleam of a fellow blade-appreciator.

"A billhook and an ice pick. Most people don't think about how useful either they can be."

"Do I even want to know?" Lily asked.

"Do you?"

"No, but I have a feeling I need to," Lily admitted.

"They're very good if you want to kill someone, less useful in a fight. I can show you later if you want."

"Where did you learn all these things?" the other redhead demanded. "Peter I can understand, he's half-crazy as it is; but what's your story?"

"That's a good question," Ginny stated. "I want to enchant the ice pick, but don't see it being in regular carry after that."

"Why not?" TenTen asked.

"What?"

"If you're going to take the time to enchant it, why aren't you going to carry it?"

"Because it's not much good in combat. Best thing to do with it is shove it into someone's ear. Jam one in someone's ear and they'll never be a problem again. Problem is, it's kinda hard to do that in the middle of a fight."

"That's a good point," TenTen agreed sagely. "What about the other stuff?"

"The punch knives I might add to my regular arsenal, probably will come to think of it. Wand or billhook in the right and one of them in the left could be a pretty good combination," Ginny finished thoughtfully. "Reason I'm carrying them now is because they feel enchanted. Lily, could you have a look at them next time you have a spare hour?"

"Let me see," the former Queen of Gryffindor demanded. Ginny pulled out the two knives and laid them on the counter once more.

"Why didn't you tell me you had something acceptable?" Lily demanded, dismissing the knuckleduster knife and focusing on the other.

"What?"

"How do you use it?" Lily asked, picking up the knife with the odd cylindrical handle and horizontal blade.

"You grip it and punch with it, horizontal lets it go between ribs easier," TenTen explained.

"It's a bit big for me," Lily said, following her instructions to get the correct hold.

"I can order you one made to your size," TenTen offered. "They're pretty easy to use, just need to learn how to punch."

"I can do that already," Lily said, dismissing the ninja's concerns. "Get me one of these and show me how to carry it and I will."

"Punching isn't as simple as just making a fist," Ginny warned.

"I know, I've had to deal with my share of bullies on my neighbourhood streets," Lily explained, emerald eyes flashing at the memories.

"Better than me. Most of my knowledge on punching came from the other side until a couple years back," Ginny said dryly.

"Do you want me to go find and beat up Bellatrix for you?" Lily offered, half seriously.

"No thank you," Ginny replied. Not that she didn't appreciate her offer.

"You don't think I'd win?" Evans challenged, getting her back up.

"Quite the contrary, I'm fairly sure you would," Ginny assured the girl.

"Then why'd you say 'no' so fast?"

"Because if you did fight her, she might get in a lucky shot."

"So?"

"So if she did, I'd have to kill her," Ginny said simply. "Something I'd like to avoid doing to blood relatives."

"Blood relatives?"

"My grandmother is Cedrella Black. Married Septimus Weasley."

"You know, statements like that are exactly why Weasleys never fit into wizarding society, Lily Luna," Lily sniffed.

"Because I think girls are to be protected?"

"No, it's that you don't want to kill blood relatives; bet you wouldn't sleep with them either."

"No," she shuddered, sick at the thought of doing anything remotely intimate with any of the Blacks, even so much as a hug ... except for Nymphadora, but she was more of a Tonks anyway, so didn't count.

"There you go, if you were a proper pureblood you'd think that a quick murder or two would get you some gold and that family trees should have as few branches as possible," Lily giggled. "It's exactly this sort of thing that makes purebloods consider the Weasleys blood traitors."

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not speculate on how the Purists' minds work," Lily Luna requested.

"Alright," Lily agreed. "Is there anything else you'd like to focus on?"

"Ways to disrupt magic, that is, chakra."

"Silk is a good insulator and Cold Iron is good at absorbing chakra attacks," TenTen said thoughtfully.

"Could we use them to bring down wards?"

"Wards?"

"You know, protective barriers and suchlike?"

"You'd probably need a whole lot of it and you'd need a way to keep it from absorbing chakra till you needed it," TenTen replied. "Wrapping it in silk might work, but that would still mean a lot of silk."

"Any way to de-chakra it after it absorbs chakra?"

TenTen gave a helpless shrug. "I read a book that made a passing mention of it a few years ago. I'm sorry, but I have no idea."

"You had enough of one to give us a lead," Ginny replied, grinning wide. "In the meantime, there's something else I'd like you two gals to lend your expert eyes to." She pulled out the magical blade that she'd 'acquired' from the grungy store they'd exploded in Kyōto.

"It's got an odd set of charms on them," Lily reported, turning the knife over in her hands. "Silencing Charm, Notice Me Not Charm, concealment charms, and ever-sharp charms to start with."

"If it's blooded or the user wills it, it imbues the user with a terrifying aura that should only affect enemies. Whoever made these was both very good and very strange," TenTen added. "You need to channel a little chakra through it to activate. I suggest pretending it's one of your foreign bits of pointing wood until you get used to the feeling and can do it at will. It should stop you clanking when you walk, at any rate."

"Thanks, ladies," Ginny said, taking the dagger back.

"The Magical Council might consider these dark objects," Lily cautioned.

"Are you going to tell them?"

"Of course not," the former First Lady of Hogwarts replied quickly.

"Neither am I," Ginny said with a grin.

"Just don't get caught."

"I won't."

 _Weird_ , Ginny commented idly.

 _What's weird?_ asked Lily Luna.

 _You don't think it a bit odd that the only weapons shop in a heavily militarised village made up of people raised as soldiers from infancy, had no useful weapons aside from a few hundred-year old muggle surplus blades?_

 _The shopkeep was telling the truth,_ Kikyō interjected, _I detected no falsehood. The military_ has _requisitioned all weapons and supplies of any use in the entire Land of Fire, according to the minds of your ANBU handlers that think they're following us stealthily. I doubt you'd be able to get your hands on anything besides simple blades, sticks and stones, let alone any of those rocket-launchers you were eyeing up on the train._

 _Ehehe,_ Lily Luna chuckled sheepishly.

 _And half the village population is made up of civilians, so a shop supplying them with weapons and equipment that look impressive but are functionally useless makes sense. I don't know of any weapons-supplier in Mahōnihon that_ doesn't _cater to the decorations market to some extent. Everybody needs housewarming presents and Tanabata gifts,_ the Headmistress continued.

 _Nothing says 'I love you' like a spiked mace, scythe or giant Wind Demon Shuriken for your wall,_ Lily Luna snickered.

 _But there was something else,_ Kikyō mused. _The girl was hiding one little fact from you; she's been ordered not to allow you or your friends access to any weapon of value or effectiveness, for national security reasons. She was too polite to rub that in your face._

 _What? But we got the Robbins punch daggers_ , Ginny protested. _And nobody's taken away my billhook or the rest of my knives!_

 _Hundred-year old muggle surplus knives like those little blades are hardly dangerous for a gēnin, let alone anyone with actual expertise_ , the ghost dismissed. _Even that magical dagger of yours is nothing more than kunai to these people, a trinket to give their toddlers to practice bladework with._

 _Just my luck that my weapons pusher is a paranoid xenophobic military dictatorship_ , Ginny grumbled.

They returned to their Fortress-embassy and found Mary in the kitchen rapidly switching her gaze from a cookbook to a bubbling pot on the stove. Remus was helpfully consulting another dozen cookbooks at the table.

"What are we having, Mare?" Lily asked.

"Soup," the Scotswoman replied shortly.

"What kind?" Lily prompted.

"I'm not sure," Mary admitted. "I think I mighta switched recipes halfway through."

"It's hard to tell sometimes," Remus offered. "The only books written in English are antiques the colonialists traded centuries ago. You have to use your judgement in deciding where one recipe begins the other ends."

"Try reading them backwards."

"Really?"

"Hell if I know, but it worked for me whenever I got stuck in Ancient Runes," Lily said cheerfully.

"Alright."

"Where's the Daimyō and all his merry men?" asked Lily Luna, looking around. "This place seems awfully deserted.

"Cloistered with Dumbledore, the Order of the Phoenix, the Hokage and the Konoha village council," Remus answered. "Been like that all day."

"So we're being completely cut out of the loop," Lily grumbled, sitting down at the table. "Typical. Instead of war-planning, I'll no doubt be forced to endure you two sickening lovebirds and have to hear all about your revoltingly saccharine hand-holding and strolls through the cherry-trees and so on."

"Not necessarily. Hey Lily Luna, did ye ever hear the story about the witch that forgot to wear panties on the day she had a lesson on how t'ride a broom?" Mary asked, a wicked gleam in her eye.

"Tell that story and die, you cow," Lily growled.

"No, but I'm guessing it had a happy ending for the boys," Ginny shot back. Same thing had happened to Lavender at tryouts once.

"Nope, only the one girl that noticed," Mary agreed cheerfully. "That or the only one willing to let her know that she was putting on a show."

"For your information, I did _not_ forget to wear panties! I spilled something on my lap during potions and I didn't have any clean underthings and I forgot that there was a flying lesson! I was sticking close to the ground when the Scots-bitch here decided to practice some stupid Quidditch move. Okay?!"

"You do know that you two are now married in the eyes of the wizarding world, don't you?" Ginny stated seriously.

"What?!" Lily squeaked.

"You didn't know?" her eyebrows raised. "If another wizard or witch sees a witch in ... uh ... that way in public, she's ruined for marriage forever unless he or she takes responsibility for their actions. I kinda just assumed that Mary was a good enough friend ..."

"Mary, did you know about this?" Lily turned to see her friend turning red from suppressed laughter. "You bitch!"

"She's the one who said it and ye're the one who believed it!" Mary laughed, tears streaming down her crimson face.

"I can't believe you believed that, Lils," Ginny wheezed, fending off the girl's attempts to smack her. "I mean, I know you're a muggleborn and all, but that's Order-level gullibility there!"

"Hey!"

"Not my fault it's true," Ginny said reasonably, noting the location of the nearest exit. "And that was for all those pureblood cracks you were making at my expense earlier."

"For your information, Lily Luna Potter, the wizarding world is so screwed up that I'm prepared to believe almost anything at this point!" Lily lectured.

"Yeah, and the Order ..." Remus's mouth worked silently. "I got nothing," he confessed. "In their defence, Lily's right, the magical world is a messed-up place. Live in it long enough and everything seems plausible."

"I know," Lily Luna agreed, "one of the things that makes it so fun."

 _Speaking of messed-up,_ said Ginny, _I never did ask you what in Morgana's name was possessing your father to name his second son after Severus Snape?_

 _How should I know? I already told you my parents do a lot of things that don't make a lick of sense to me!_

 _Maybe all those AKs to head finally sent Harry over the edge,_ Ginny mused. _But why on earth didn't that other Ginny stop him?_

"As fun as all this laughing at my expense is," the erstwhile Queen of Hogwarts asserted firmly, "Lily Luna and I need to go find somewhere private."

"We do?" Ginny asked. "I thought you'd be saying that to your newlywed wife, not me!" She burst into giggles again. "As flattered as I am, you're not really my type. I think you'd see far better success sticking to brunette Scotswomen. You know, tried-and-true, and all that."

Lily sighed and dragged her out of the room, the taller redhead snickering too hard to offer any meaningful resistance. "Alight, missy," she said, once they were locked in an empty room on the other side of the Fortress, "you and me need to have a little talk."

"About what?"

"About what's up with you lately," the former Head Girl said flatly. "I know we haven't spent a whole lot of time together, but even so it's obvious that you've undergone a rather large personality shift."

"It is?" Ginny asked nervously.

"It is," she replied firmly.

"What sort of shift?" the girl temporised.

"You want the list? How about your newfound love of sharp, bladed weapons? By my reckoning you've become 55 percent more psychotic than you were a few weeks ago! And that's not to mention your newfound thick-as-thievesiness with that Tonks woman and your newfound total avoidance of a certain vermin who shall remain nameless."

"55 percent? That's awfully specific. I'm sure it's all in your imagination."

Lily Evans favoured the girl with a flat, unimpressed stare that let her know she wasn't fooling anyone. It was the stare of a Head Girl confronting miscreants caught red-handed.

 _Do not fret, child_ , Kikyō reassured her, _the chances of your change remaining undetected by one as sharp as Lily Evans was almost non-existent._

Ginny sighed. "Fine. I'll tell you everything."

"Good," the shorter redhead nodded in satisfaction.

"But first you're going to have to raid the spice cupboard for me," Ginny replied, "I'll also need a good sharp, unenchanted knife, an unenchanted bowl, a flat slab of stone or a piece of unenchanted parchment, two cups of fresh spring water, and a bottle of whiskey. Note, I said whiskey, not Firewhisky, bourbon if you can get it. Nothing can have any magical residue at all."

"Why do you need all that?" Lily asked, puzzled by the requirements. It looked like she was going to have to brave a quick trip back to the kitchen.

"You won't know until after you get it for me," Ginny replied with an infuriating smirk.

A few minutes later, Lily returned. "Okay, I've got your stuff. Now explain what you need it for?"

"Privacy and to make sure you won't be able to reveal what you're about to learn," Ginny explained.

"I promised to keep quiet about it, didn't I?"

"You did, but promises to keep secrets don't mean a whole lot when there are mind-readers around," she pointed out. "Take out the bowl, pour the water in and add the spices."

"Then what?" she asked after she'd followed the instructions.

"Cut yourself and bleed into it, back of your hand is one of the better places," she advised. "Pour a bit of the whiskey over your cut into the bowl and give me the knife."

Ginny cut the back of her own hand and poured a bit of whiskey over the cut and into the bowl. Then she chanted a few words, causing the whole thing to flash white.

"What did we just do?" Lily asked, blinking the spots out of her eyes.

"Modified marriage ceremony," Ginny said absently, drawing something on the parchment, using her blood as the ink.

"MARRIAGE?" Lily shrieked. _Merlin, not again!_

"Modified, we're as single as we were five minutes ago in the eyes of the law," Ginny assured the girl. "The Black family used it to keep business partners from leaking secrets. You literally can't reveal any of the secrets I'm going to reveal to you. What is it with you and your phobia of marriage!? All anyone has to do to set you off is merely _mention_ the m-word and you're kicking up a chakra-storm! What, did a wedding kill your parents in a dark alley or something? Might want to see one of those muggle mind healers about that."

"Oh." The girl visibly calmed. "Sorry. It's just … I've been having some issues on that front recently. No offense …"

"Don't worry about it."

"If this is Black family magic, how do _you_ know it?"

"My boyfriend taught me."

"You have a boyfriend, Miss Lily Luna? Since when? Who is he? And how did _he_ know about it?"

"That's part of what I have to tell you. Now calm your teats, woman, and let me explain everything from the top. It'll make much more sense that way. The Black family has a very good library, out of which he showed me a book on how to do magical things without magical ingredients. Except the blood, I should've said without any magical ingredients other than what you produce yourself. It's also considered quite dark and restricted by the Ministry so it's naturally one of the things I'd rather you didn't talk about with other people. And thanks to the little ritual we just performed, you won't."

"Okay, now let's have it, Miss Potter, the truth about what happened to you."

"I did promise to give it to you, didn't I?" Ginny sighed, stalling a bit.

"You did," she agreed firmly.

"You'd better settle in then; it's long and convoluted and difficult-to-believe."

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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"Eureka!" Pandora screamed, a wide grin splitting her face. The girl leapt to her feet and started dancing a jig.

"What are you plotting now?" asked Naho suspiciously.

"The same thing I plot every day, my dear minion. Ways to take over the world! Bwahahahahahahahaha!" she burst into maniacal laughter.

"Do I need to break out the Calming Draughts?" their guide asked sardonically. "Or is this something only a Mind Healer can resolve?"

"You 'ave found a way to get us out of zis trap?" Apolline asked hopefully, eyes locked on the girl's generous bouncing bosom.

"You know how iron can disrupt magical fields?" Pandora asked, eyes gleaming. Not waiting for the others to respond, she continued, "I figured out how to do it!"

"You're going to summon a hunk of iron?"

"No, don't be ridiculous," Pandora sniffed. "All we have to do is put multi-ton iron rods into orbit, doesn't even matter if we use magic since they'll burn it off when the re-enter the atmosphere."

"And how will this get us out of this lava-filled hole?" Naho snarked.

"What? Who cares about that, my muse has moved on to much greater and more ambitious and more universe-bending matters than a mere escape plan! Matters such as wiping our planet clean of our foes like unto how one wipeth a dish and turneth it upon the face thereof!"

"You want to drop giant iron rods from space onto ze Death Eaters and Akatsuki?" Apolline asked, trying to get a handle on the magiscientist's train of thought.

"It'll work too, no ward, barrier, shield or barricade will be able to withstand that much iron!" the Malfoy giggled. "It will be an irresistible hammer-blow! A machine equal to the gods!"

"Eez zat even possible?"

"Of course! Open your eyes and see with the radiance of your imagination! Go beyond the impossible and kick reason to the curb!"

"How would we guide zem?"

"We'd have to set up an attack pattern while they were in orbit, but that won't pose too many problems," Pandora replied lightly.

"And what about collateral damage and the fact that a multi-ton chunk of anything falling out of orbit will destroy just about anything it lands on?" Naho interjected, in spite of herself.

"Oh. Yes. Well, guess we will have to save that for places like the land of Ame-gakure."

Naho shivered, chilled to the bone by the implications of their conversation.

Noticing, Pandora reassured her, "Never be afraid of what the future holds, never be regretful of the present! When you're scared, it's all the more reason to move forward!"

"It might be prudent to figure out how to prevent anyone else from doing something similar," Naho conceded weakly.

"He who controls the orbitals, controls the planet," Pandora agreed gravely.

Apolline raised an eyebrow at that statement.

"So I sometimes like to read muggle science fiction to relax," Pandora admitted. "One cannot live on research alone!"

"I hate to disrupt this academic tête-á-tête, but can we save the monomaniacal world-overthrowing and scientific speculations until such time as we're _not in danger of being dissolved by the rapidly-rising lake of lava!_ " Naho snapped.

"Fine, if you must be like that," grumbled Pandora with an extravagant sigh. "I suppose it's about ready."

"What's ready?" the Japanese witch huffed.

"The ceiling of course. The lava has melted the rock just enough for the whole ceiling to operate more like a liquid than a solid. Which means it's susceptible to spells like the one I've been learning the past week: _Suiton – uzumaki no jutsu!_ " Waving her wand furiously, Pandora grunted with exertion.

The others watched, wide-eyed as the glowing red rock-barrier above them began to swirl like a whirlpool. As the speed increased, it resembled an upside-down maelstrom, pushing upwards until a wide hole appeared. Yellow light filtered down to them.

"How do you like my whirlpool-drill?" Pandora demanded. "If you're gonna dig, dig to the heavens! My drill will open a hole in the universe!" she bellowed boisterously.

The samurai applauded in enthusiasm.

"Oh," said Naho in astonishment. "I'm sorry for doubting you."

"I'm sorry for doubting me too," Pandora chirped. " _Levicorpus!_ " With another slash of her wand, shrieking samurai around her flew upwards out of the hole and to freedom by their ankles, arms flailing helplessly. Apolline and Naho swiftly emulated her, until it was only the three of them left.

"Eef you weel allow me to do ze 'onours," said the Frenchwoman, wings sprouting from her shoulderblades, "we shall return to our normal programming." Seizing the other two magical girls in her claws, Apolline launched herself into the air.

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	34. 31 Have Fangs, Will Travel

**Author's Note:**

This is both a HP reworking of "Back to the Future" themes, and a soft reboot/reworking of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" and other things written by Rorschach's Blot. Used with the permission of their original authors (except for "Back to the Future" of course). The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter or anything else. Full disclaimer in the Table of Contents.

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Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.

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Canon-compliant. HP&DH compliant (except the Epilogue). HP&CC compliant (except the conclusion). FB&WTFT compliant. Pottermore compliant (mostly). Some crossover with: Naruto, Ranma ½, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Twilight, Lord of the Rings and Avatar: The Last Airbender. Primarily Harry Potter though.

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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "Magical Contracts" by Kalen Darkmoon.

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Question of the Week: Anyone ever come across any fanfics heavily featuring the African magical school Uagadou?

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* * *

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 **Chapter 31 – Have Fangs, Will Travel**

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From now on, I don't care if my tea leaves spell 'Die, Ron, die', I'm chucking them in the bin where they belong.

– Ronald Weasley

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"Evening, Lady Black, Lady Malfoy," Tom greeted the two women. "Your friend is waiting for you over there." He nodded his grizzled head towards the table in the far corner, shrouded in darkness.

"Thankyou, Tom," Andromeda Tonks murmured, leading the way to the shadowy figure seated, back against the wall. "Thankyou for meeting with us," she said politely, after sweeping the area three times for traps or listening charms.

"How could I refuse when Tom tells me that two such august members of the Wizengamot wished to speak with me?" Miss X replied sardonically.

Andromeda sized the hidden woman up carefully for a bit. Satisfied with the results, she nodded to Hermione to begin.

"You're doubtless wondering what two strangers want with you, 'Miss X'. As I'm sure you've already surmised, we come for your help."

"You're the one who led the raid on the Death Eaters in the docklands, Miss Dolores Jane Umbridge," the woman drawled.

Hermione nodded. "Thanks to your information – we appreciate that very much, by the way."

The woman inclined her head gracefully.

"You've been a big help to Peter Pettigrew; I don't know how much, he refuses to talk about your 'tuition', but I can deduce that your contribution has been substantial. I am grateful for your assistance to my friend."

"Hear hear," murmured Andromeda.

"I'll be blunt, Miss X – we would like you to join the Hogsmeade Auxiliary force to the Hogwarts Army."

"Join your grocers' association?" the voice asked in amusement.

"Officially or in an advisory position. You don't have to reveal who you are, or even that you exist, to the rest of them. The HAHA would greatly benefit from your knowledge and experience."

"And for what possible reason would I ever want to link hands with the local amateur Neighbourhood Watchers?"

Ignoring the question, Hermione laid out three stacks of parchment on the table between them. "This," she tapped the first with her forefinger, "is my research into where Voldemort got all his power," she pretended not to notice the other's flinch, "I was reading certain restricted books on foreign forms of magic which mentioned a magical technique that allows a wizard to draw magic from his followers. The Wizengamot's and DoM's libraries have been most helpful in that regard." _Plus whatever I can still remember about my research into the matter in my last life. Would've made my life orders of magnitude easier if I had these resources on hand back then._ "If only the Unspeakables were as helpful as their jealously-guarded texts."

"So what?"

"That was one reason why he was so powerful, well, before he ascended to squibdom," Hermione explained. "He linked to many powerful people in the form of a Dark Mark. I am exploring possible ways for us to you take advantage of this magical technique."

"Take advantage how?"

"By replicating it, with some modifications. I've determined that the Dark Mark is dark magic, hence the name."

"What a surprise."

"Isn't it?" Hermione agreed, unmindful of the sarcasm. "By cross-referencing the technique I believe he used with other texts in Hindi, Arabic, Farsi, Japanese, and Turkish, my assistants found several promising leads." _Albeit not without endless whinging about taking them away from their experiments. What a bunch of whiners the Unspeakables are! Who knew?_ "Which brings us to this," she tapped the second pile of documents. "My research on a very rare, obscure and secret power-ritual that has been passed down through the ages from Lord Black to Lord Black and no-one else."

"If that's the case, how do you know about it? The Families guard such family magics jealously, especially those as ancient as you're suggesting."

"Since the House of Black is effectively no more, I don't think anyone's left to object," Hermione grinned. "The current Lord Black was kind enough to relay every scrap of information he knew about the ritual, and Proxy Black was kind enough to give me access to the vault in which all the books and artefacts extracted from the Black properties have been stored. Several of the books from the former Black Library provide important context and other insights, if one knows the ritual itself. Which brings us to door number three," she tapped a nail on the final stack. "The research on soul-magic that Dirk Murray, one of my 'grocers' from the HAHA and his mentor Master Necromancer Aleister Dee were able to pull together. Even as we speak, a group of helpers from the Necromancy Guild are poring through their own libraries to find any other information of value. Between my Unspeakable assistants, Master Dee's assistants, and myself and Andromeda, we have been able to construct a modified ritual that combines the benefits of all three systems of magics, and attempts to minimise the drawbacks. Quite the feat, arithmantically speaking; I'd consider writing a thesis on it for an Arithmancy Mastery if it weren't imperative that nobody outside of ourselves ever knows about it."

"So why are you telling a complete stranger this?"

"You're hardly a complete stranger; I know Peter trusts you. And, we need something from you."

"You want someone with a Dark Mark."

"Got it in one. So far, everything we've got is theoretical. I'd rather not actually perform dangerous, powerful and highly-experimental magic without as much testing as possible. The last thing we want is a repeat of the last two rituals those morons performed," she muttered the last sentence under her breath.

"What happened during the last rituals?" The woman's ears were obviously very keen.

"That's not important," Hermione said hastily, "what is important is getting ahold of Dark Marks. I've got two dozen Death Eaters and another dozen sympathisers in my dungeons, but none of them have the Dark Mark unfortunately. Too low down in the ranks; as far as I can tell, all the Inner Circle who are still alive have fled to Japan with their Lords. So there's only so much data I can collect from my lab rats."

"I abandoned the group before I could receive my Mark," Miss X said quickly. "So there's no point adding me to your collection!"

"I figured as much," Hermione said. "But you have contacts; your hear things that we can't. Surely you know of someone we can snatch?"

The mysterious tutor pondered this proposal for a while. Andromeda and Hermione gave her as much time as she needed.

"You are … an interesting person, Miss Dolores Umbridge," she finally spoke.

"As are you, Miss Sybil Trelawney."

Miss X gasped and lurched backwards unconsciously. "How did you know?" she breathed.

"Your disguise charms are most impressive; I haven't been able to penetrate them. I doubt Andy's been able to either. But there's no need to do so when I can recognise your extremely distinctive chin and jawline." _It seems what limited time I spent in Divination actually came in useful for once!_ "An effective cover, pretending to be a batty soothsayer fraud who shills amulets and miracle creams through her séances and Daily Prophet columns. I probably would've fallen for it too, except for a friend of mine who used a similar camouflage."

"You refer to Lady Malfoy," Trelawney said flatly. "Little Pandora always was a razor-sharp cookie. Had to be, to survive the Malfoys."

"A relative of yours, I presume?" interjected Andromeda.

"Distant cousin; distant enough to stay under the radar of both the Malfoys and whatever's been purging them … you wouldn't happen to know anything about that would you?"

"I'm sure I've no idea what you mean," Hermione said primly.

"You want marked Death Eaters, why don't you get your grocers to scour Knockturn? They've many more hands than I."

"The bulk of the HAHA have shifted into more … commercial operations of late." _A nice euphemism for plotting to suck all the gold out of the entire global wizarding banking system!_

"Marximus McKinnon," Trelawney said suddenly. "He's been very active in the property market of late. I did think it odd, it's not his usual area ... buying up land, houses and businesses owned by fleeing Dark Families."

Hermione nodded. "His firm is acting as our agents. Their forces are hungry for liquidity; wars are fought on wands and gold, after all."

"And you're very kindly supplying them with the latter," Trelawney replied sarcastically. "I'm sure they're very appreciative."

Andromeda shrugged. "Gold is fleeting, it comes and it goes. What lasts are land, buildings, essential businesses, roads, docks, bridges, ships, cattle … the foundations of industry and agriculture. The Purists are selling off the geese who lay the golden eggs; we're more than happy to part with gold to ensure that when this war finally ends, they'll have no long-term assets in Britain. No way of restocking their coffers. They'd have to start from scratch, just like the muggleborn they so despise. And without the foundations of their wealth, their influence in the Ministry and society will wither away."

"I'm quite sure Lord Malfoy is ready and willing to deprive them of all that gold the first chance he gets over in Japan," Hermione added. "But impoverishing the Families does no good if they win over there. Nothing would stop them and their allies from steamrolling over the British Ministry of Magic and seizing whatever they want in this country. Which is why it's imperative we finish our research."

"Neither of us have any intention of breaking your confidence," Andromeda assured the agitated seer.

"As long as I continue to play ball and get you what you want," the cloaked woman replied sourly.

"I'd rather you help us because it will end this war quicker," Hermione said.

Trelawney considered the two Wizengamot members for a while. "I'm not joining your little knitting club; my life's in enough danger as it is without deliberately painting a giant red bulls-eye on my back." She sighed. "I'll see whether I can find you some Dark Marks. Should be a few still skulking around."

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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"Hola touristas!" came the boisterous, cheery cry.

The three occupants of the train car looked up to see a very familiar pink-haired Auror bounce in, followed by a very familiar dark-haired Dark Lord counterpart. Harry was sitting in the corner leafing through a stack of parchments. Narcissa was curled up against Sirius, head resting in the crook of his neck.

"Tonks, Tom, how's it hanging?"

"Low and lazy," she grinned. "How are you enjoying the Shanking?"

"I think you mean Shinkansen," Narcissa corrected. "And it's far more comfortable than the Hogwarts Express, let me tell you. So who's your new friend?"

Tom was gently leading a shy brunette by the hand. The woman kept trying to hide behind his broad shoulders.

"Say hi to Tom's latest conquest, Hestia Jones," Tonks waved her hand breezily, "friend of mine from the DMLE. Quit hiding Hestia, you're an Auror for Thor's sake!"

"Nice to meet you all," she mumbled, eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

"I guess time travelling and meeting ones' heroes isn't everyone's cup of tea," the pinkette sighed, before flinging herself into the spare seat opposite the trio.

"Heroes?" Padfoot perked up. "For what?"

"Nothing you've done yet, so drop it," Nymphadora said sternly. "No getting a big head prematurely."

"Not something he has to worry about," Narcissa murmured to herself.

"Didn't Lily Luna say that you and Tom were an item, Tonks?" Harry wondered absently.

"Ancient history. It was a summer fling," Tonks shrugged. "Wallflower Hestia's a much better match for super-wizard here."

"Yes, it's amazing how much smoother a relationship goes with a girlfriend who doesn't prefer to swan around in the past all the time," Tom rolled his eyes.

"Bite your tongue," Tonks scolded playfully. "Not my fault the future is made of booooring! I became an Auror for adventure and excitement!" She whispered conspiratorially to Harry, "If I have to bust one more illegal trading card ring in Knockturn I'm going to snap and become a Dark Lady myself just to liven things up!"

"Sometimes boring is good," Harry intoned sagely.

"Yeah you just keep telling yourself that, Rat-boy. What's that you're going through?"

"Some mail from Britain. At the last stop, I was attacked by a rather irate Post owl."

"I'd imagine trying to chase a bullet train across Japan would be both exasperating and tiring for the poor thing," Narcissa commented, snuggling back against her fiancé.

"Gimme gimme!" Tonks snatched the papers out of his hand and shamelessly rifled through them. "What's this?" holding aloft a sealed envelope.

"Why don't you tell me, Nym?" Harry pricked his finger and reached over the distance between them, letting a couple drops of blood fall onto the seal. The Auror tore it open and scanned through the letter.

"It's from Aunt Hermione. Things are going well, she and Lockhart have cleared out a lot of the Death Munchers hiding out in the Ministry. There are plans afoot to shake things up even further. She's got a bunch of questions for you."

"Shoot."

"Would you do something you'd rather not do if you knew it would defeat the Dark Lords?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Second is, would you try something you didn't think you were ready to try or something you never ever thought about trying in order to beat him?"

"What's this all about?"

"She doesn't say. Well?"

"Yes. To both."

"Last question, would you share something that you'd normally want to keep to yourself if it meant you could help your friends with something important?"

"Hermione knows that anything she needs to use of mine, I would gladly drop in her lap at a moment's notice, if it'd help with her projects."

"Guess you know her too well, and vice versa," Tonks grinned. "The next bit says that assuming you say yes to all of the above, she needs your authority for the HAHA to use all the gold in the Black and Malfoy vaults in Britain and Japan for some unstated project, and also your approval for them to nab a few more Death Nibblers to run experiments on for another unstated project. She promises you won't regret either–"

"Stop," Harry said with a smile. "Tell her that I agree to whatever it is she's planning as long as she promises that I can sleep on her couch or floor if she drains my accounts dry."

Tonks smiled back. "If she's planning what I think she is you won't have to worry about sleeping on any floor or couch ... unless you do something stupid, that is."

"What does that mean?" Harry blinked.

Tonks and Tom shared a significant glance. "You'll find out," the metamorphmagus smirked, extracting a quill and parchment from her voluminous pockets.

"Mental," Sirius shook his head.

"Getting worse anyway," Harry agreed.

"There's also a comment that she's put a couple named Vernon and Petunia to work for the HAHA's new 'commercial' branch in addition to their work in the 'black ops' branch, whatever that means. Hopes you don't mind."

"Hmmmm. Now that I think about it, I never did get around to wreaking unholy punishment on those bigoted bastardly muggle relatives of mine, did I?" Harry mused. "I kinda got sidetracked with the Gourmands of the Grave attacking the Evanses and all. Completely forgot afterwards."

"Not to mention whenever Lily Evans is around, she tends to suck up all your attention," Narcissa pointed out. "No wonder you forgot about some colourless muggles."

"Really? I do that?" he shot her a quizzical look.

"The fact that you don't even notice it happening is pretty damning evidence, lover-boy. Face it, you've been hung up on her for months now. Men," she sighed, "always so oblivious to the obvious."

"And that's just the way we like it," Padfoot declared proudly. "Makes life so much easier to just bypass all that emotional shite and get on with the fundamental things of life!"

"That just raises so many disturbing implications it's not even funny," Harry muttered to himself. "What the hell is happening between us? I hope Lils knows because I haven't a clue how to deal with this …"

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "What's to deal with? I saw that hug she gave you at the train station; nobody else was deemed worthy of one. Next time you greet each other, just sweep her into a hug and snog her daylights out."

"This is all I need, more complications in my life," he groused. "Can't the two of us be close without all this entanglement stuff? Where's Pandora when I need her? She's my go-to for fixing the problems in my social life … ouch!" He rubbed his smarting shoulder.

"Are you a man or a mouse?" Narcissa demanded severely. "Get up off your lazy rodent behind and sort your household out. Do you think your women enjoy floating about in limbo around you, like the universe's most aimless solar system?"

Harry's jaw worked, but he honestly had no idea how to reply to that.

"As funny as it is watching Uncle Pete get chewed out yet again for his inconsiderateness, what should I write in our response letter?" drawled Nymphadora, scribbling out the reply.

Harry forcibly dragged his attention back to the far more comfortable topic of plotting gruesome revenge. "Hmmm. I don't really feel like making their life hell through curses and potions any more. They have helped a lot in beefing up the HAHA's manpower. Plus I find the whole idea of Vernon and Petunia Dursley of all people fighting Purists for the benefit of the greater wizarding world hilarious. That's something I want to encourage – oh how their counterparts in my world would flip out, if they ever had the chance to learn of it! Turning those 'normiest' of the 'normies' into champions of the freaks is far more satisfying than merely inflicting pain on their bodies and minds …" A slow smile made its way across his face. "Here's what you're going to reply to Hermione …"

.

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Frank Longbottom thought his pitch to Amelia Bones went over fairly well. The Head Boy and newly-appointed replacement Head Girl of Hogwarts had just concluded the latest Prefect's meeting, and he'd offered to walk her back to the Hufflepuff common room. On the way, he'd calmly delivered every reason he could think of why the remaining 'Puffs at Hogwarts (half of their number were still on exchange at other magical schools around the world) would make great additions to the Hogwarts Army. Amelia was noncommittal, but interested enough to allow him entrance to the common room and convene a meeting of the most influential 'Puffs to hear him repeat his spiel. After much discussion, the group eventually decided to accompany Frank to meet the other members of the HA and find out more about how they were countering the Purist menace, before making any final decisions. Frank discreetly used his map of Hogwarts to direct him to his closest comrades.

"Alice and James are in here."

"In a girls' bathroom?" Amos Diggory sniggered, "Wouldn't a broom closet be more appealing? Looks like you may have to pursue the other McKinnon twin instead, Frank."

The scene revealed to them when the door was opened was not, however, of an illicit liaison between the school's chief prankster and the Head Boy's longterm girlfriend. Even Frank would've been hard-pressed to predict what he was about to see. James Potter and Alice McKinnon were busily dismantling the farthest toilet (stall and all), the sink opposite it and the pipes running between them.

"Is there some reason you're breaching the privacy of the girls' bathroom and vandalising school property, Potter?" Amelia asked in a measured tone, wand already in her palm. It appeared the Marauders were up to their usual tricks again.

"Because Xeno and Marlene are busy with their paper run, which leaves me and Alice to do the dirty work," James grunted, not bothering to turn around and acknowledge the arrivals.

"I meant why are you doing it in the first place?" she demanded. "You better not be installing any more listening or monitoring charms in the female toilets and showers again, Potter, or so help me …"

James shrugged. "Wormtail wants the toilet and sink. Don't know why, didn't ask and don't want to find out. Maybe he wants to distribute autographed toilet seats, for all I know!"

"Pettigrew just wanted it? And you're going to package it up and send it to Japan no questions asked?" the Head Girl inquired dubiously. It was common knowledge around Hogwarts castle that relations had been strained, to say the least, between the two former bosom-buddies.

"Look, Pettigrew may be a soulmate-stealing backstabbing dirty rat, but he's still my friend and fellow Marauder. And he and the others are the ones putting their butts on the line over in Magical Asia; if they say they need something, I'm going to do my darndest to ensure they get it."

Finishing their excavation, the two vandals shrank the purloined materials and packed them away into an ordinary Post parcel.

"You think anyone will notice the difference?" James asked, eyeing the gaping holes in the bathroom floor.

"Nah," Alice replied dismissively, kicking the displaced tiles into the hole. "All the girls avoid this bathroom like the plague. Five galleons says Filch only notices over the summer holidays while searching for all the contraband he's certain is hidden around the school."

They turned but found their exit blocked by a rather irate Head Girl.

"Fix it – now," Amelia growled. "I wouldn't have expected any different from Potter, but I'm surprised at you, McKinnon."

The two miscreants shared a glance and an extravagant sigh.

While they were casting _Reparos_ on the damaged floors, Frank explained to them, "Amelia and the others have agreed to hear us out about the HA. If they're satisfied with what we're doing, they've agreed to do their best to bring the rest of the 'Puffs on board."

"I see you are finally taking your Lord's words seriously and are starting to build your Hufflepuff army," came a new voice.

The students in the bathroom whirled around in alarm, dived into stalls, hid behind sinks, conjured barriers and generally prepared for the worst.

"Show yourself!" James ordered. "Who are you?"

Xiomara Zabini threw off her invisibility cloak. "Good response time, not great but good. Should've started hexing first and asking questions later, though. Nobody tried to flank me or force me to reveal myself either." Completely unfazed by the wands pointed at her heart, the Italian girl stepped lightly into the room and seated herself on the nearest sink with the air of being queen of the school.

Frank relaxed. "It's okay, she's one of us."

"Zabini. So you're back," Amelia said flatly, wand still tracking the intruder. "I was given to understand you'd withdrawn from Hogwarts."

"Temporarily, to conclude some family business," the Mediterranean girl agreed. "I'm only here now to escort my HA members to tonight's meeting. There's much to be discussed."

"That's a nice invisibility cloak," James said slowly. "Where did you get it?"

"From your trunk," she replied calmly.

"What!? It was in a locked secret compartment in my locked trunk in my locked dormroom in the locked Gryffindor Tower!"

She shrugged. "None were locked in any serious way."

"How?!"

"You seem to forget that I lived in Gryffindor Tower for several months. I'm very familiar with its warding systems."

Shushing James' spluttering outrage, Amelia growled, "Theft is a serious breach of Hogwarts regulations and the law, Zabini."

An ebony eyebrow raised. "What theft would you be referring to Miss Bones? I am merely utilising a Potter family heirloom. Who would be more entitled to it than Lady Potter herself?" She jumped down to the floor again, her heeled boots making not a sound as they hit the tiles. "Congratulations on becoming Head Girl in Lady Black's absence, by the way. Now if we've finished with the pleasantries, shall we be off? Since I'm the sole person who has no legitimate reason to be haunting Hogwarts' halls, I'll be hanging on to the Potter Cloak for the time being." She scrutinised the Hufflepuffs carefully. "I recognise you from my time as a fellow Hufflepuff: Amelia Bones, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Amos Diggory, Nigel Stanthorpe, Joneleth MacMillan, Amberlin Fletchly. Have you all made the appropriate oaths not to betray the HA? Not that it matters. I charmed the bathroom door so everyone that comes through it falls under the same sorts of spells ... now, is everyone coming to Hogsmeade for tonight's meeting?"

There was some muttering and grumbling at her presumption, but all nodded.

"Are you sure?" Zabini demanded. "Do you really want to know what goes on in the shadowy world of war and murder and intrigue? Where the stakes are high and any minute could be your last? Where forbidden and arcane knowledge is discussed? On your heads be it then, it won't be my fault if your fragile little minds shatter under the weight of the knowledge you may receive. Merlin knows, mine barely survived the first time I discovered ... The Truth."

"If anyone wishes to go back to the dorms, now is the time to do it," Amelia sighed. "As she said, if you can't accept what the HAHA has to say, you have none to blame but yourselves if you come."

Shamefaced, four members of Hufflepuff House shuffled out of the bathroom, each secure in the knowledge of their own weakness and that it was sometimes better to remain in ignorance than to gain even a fragment of an awful truth.

"Excellent," Xiomara beamed, enveloping herself in invisibility once more. "Now that we've weeded out the dregs, we can be on our way. To the Hogs' Head!"

The journey through the hidden tunnel to Honeydukes, out the back door, and into the upper room of the Hogs' Head was smooth and uneventful. Amelia Bones and Kingsley Shacklebolt found themselves sitting amongst a mélange of Hogwarts students, proprietors of Diagon stores and a motley assortment of other members of wizarding and muggle Britain. Amelia was puzzled by the agenda at first. It was unclear why arrangements to brew or procure as much Polyjuice Potion as possible, and schedules for HAHA members to visit various magical banks to exchange currency or bullion, would assist in combating the Purists' menace to society. Perhaps it was part of some clandestine intelligence-gathering operation?

Things livened up for her at the conclusion of the meeting, when Zabini waved Umbridge and Lockhart over to their corner of the room and raised a privacy shield.

"I have received word from my contacts within the vampire hierarchy," the dark-skinned girl began.

Amelia and Kingsley immediately sat up straighter.

"What's happening?" asked Umbridge. "Are they going to get off the fence to join Voldemort and Grindelwald?"

"That remains a risk, but not at this moment, no. The Volturi Conclave is far more interested in the situation developing in North America. It appears that a conflict is brewing with the Great Vegetarian Coven who control the northern half of that continent."

Lockhart snickered. "Great Vegetarian Coven? That's gotta be a joke! Least intimidating name for a gang of blood-suckers I've ever heard!"

"It is a joke of sorts; that coven only feeds on animal blood rather than human. That's about as close to a plant-consuming vampire as one can get. The GVC is made up of two sub-groups, the Denali Coven in the north and the Olympic Coven in the south. Both families try to avoid killing people for moral reasons. One of the many points of difference between them and the Volturi."

"What are the others?"

"I'm sure the fact that they are the largest and most powerful coven in the New World plays a large part," the girl replied sardonically. "But the pretext in this instance is that one of the members of the Olympic Coven has sired a vampire child."

"And that's bad?" queried Shacklebolt.

"Catastrophic. There are only three major laws in the global vampire community: stay hidden from muggles, don't infringe on another coven's turf, and never ever ever turn a baby into a vampire."

"Why not?"

"Because in every instance that it's occurred, it leads to the infringement of the previous two laws. Since vampires never age beyond the date of their siring, a vampire child never grows older or matures, they retain their base instincts: feed, and continue to feed. It typically leads to uncontrollable carnage, as the child goes on a rampage, attacking any muggle they see in order to slake their bottomless bloodlust. About 500 years ago, the Volturi laid down a rule that any undead baby and the vampire who sired it were to be executed immediately. The word is that the Volturi Conclave is currently mobilising its entire force to annihilate the GVC and its allies for the flagrant breach."

"Shite," Lockhart breathed. "An all-out vampire civil war between two of the most powerful groups."

"Indeed," replied Zabini. "It has been suggested to me that the retaliatory raid may be merely a smokescreen to cover the Volturi's forcible acquisition of certain vampires with valuable magical talents that they've coveted for years."

"What's that? Vampires can't use magic!" Umbridge blurted.

"Most can't but the very rare exceptions can," Zabini corrected.

"I've never heard of this before, and I'm the DD-DCRMC," the Ministry flunky frowned. "Are they witches and wizards who've been turned?"

"No, it cannot be predicted which vampires will demonstrate magical abilities. It seems to occur randomly regardless of whether they were a muggle, squib or wizard beforehand. If it were as simple as magic-using human turning into magic-using vampire, I've no doubt the Volturi and their Guard would've spent the last few centuries snatching and siring every magic-user they could get their fangs into, to boost their numbers. Wizards would be collected like Slug Club members, although the numbers of the Guard would be enormous by comparison. Something more like the Persian Emperor's 10,000 Immortals. Though rather more literally immortal in this case. Fortunately, they number less than 200 at present."

"That's still a lot of them. Enough to do some serious damage, even if they weren't the biggest, meanest dogs of the vampire world," Kingsley worried.

"Which is why it's a good thing that they've decided to thin out their herd for us themselves."

"The vampires' government manipulating their own sacrosanct laws for gain eh? I guess the living and the undead aren't so different after all," remarked Marlene.

"What's your proposed strategy for dealing with them?" Umbridge inquired.

"Wait for the Volturi and the GVC to battle it out and seek an alliance with whoever's left standing," Zabini replied promptly.

Alice nodded slowly. "No sense trying to build bridges with parties that may not exist before long. Especially if it means offending the victors."

"I propose a party of HA members accompany me to observe the battle and make our decisions for the best angle of approach in the aftermath. Oh, and you can tell our Lord we've discovered another bender, Lady Malfoy."

Umbridge perked up. "Like in Magical Asia?"

"Yes. Magical talent is distributed randomly around the globe, it was inevitable one would turn up in our part of the world. I'm surprised one hasn't come to light sooner."

"Where?"

"Amongst the GVC's allies. He arrived in America with three of his kin not long ago to support the Olympic Coven against the Volturi. An Egyptian vampire. Benjamin. I don't know his real name."

"What elements can he bend?"

"All of them. All the elements."

Gilderoy whistled, impressed.

"What's he like?" queried the bureaucrat.

"Short, four and a half feet or so, dark hair, olive skin. Looks like a teenager. Cheery disposition. Has a mate named Tia. May be susceptible to appeals to The Greater Good."

"A bender of that calibre would be a powerful ally for Peter," Lockhart murmured to himself.

"The other likely targets for acquisition are one Alice Cullen, the only vampire Seer on record, and the vampire child itself, called Renesmee. Aka Nessie. Its parents are likely secondary targets."

"Nessie?" Umbridge giggled, "as in the Loch Ness Monster?"

Xiomara nodded. "An appropriate name for a monster of unknown capabilities, non? It is … one can only describe it as an anomaly. Something the vampires haven't experienced before. For one thing, unlike any other of the undead, it ages – for every month of normal time, it ages the equivalent of about three months. It's estimated that within seven years it'll reach full maturity, and then stop ageing. A more important quality is its apparently extensive telepathic and empathic powers. One of its parents is a powerful Legilimens, the other is a powerful Occlumens. The offspring seems to have inherited both, and combined them in unusual ways. My contact says one touch is enough to induce anyone to love the child unconditionally, and feel they would move heaven and earth to protect it. Perhaps some sort of instinctive survival mechanism, like cats whose mews imitate the sound of human babies' cries, or reptiles who lay identical eggs in birds' nests for the mothers to raise."

"This Nessie could also be a powerful ally if used correctly," Umbridge mused, "yes … definitely potential there …"

"I'd recommend extreme caution if the HA considers that route," Zabini warned. "Unknown persons can result in extremely unpredictable situations."

"Agreed. Alright, I think you've got a good plan. When to we have to leave?"

"This weekend seems the likeliest time for the confrontation, according to my source. It will also allow those attending Hogwarts not to be missed by the staff."

"I'll arrange for some international portkeys."

"Have them set to and from Forks, in the northwest United States."

Amelia noticed the sudden paling of the faces of Umbridge and Lockhart. The blond boy's fists clenched tightly.

"Did … did you say Forks?" he asked weakly. "As in Forks, Washington?"

"Yes. You know of it?"

"It's her, it's got to be her. She's always at the centre of anything that goes wrong," Gilderoy growled.

Umbridge sighed. "I'd really hoped, just this once, that our luck wouldn't hold true."

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"A moment, Heir Potter, if you please."

James turned to face the newly-minted Lady Potter.

"What do you want?" he asked with some distaste.

"I know you dislike the idea of me becoming your Lady," Xiomara said bluntly, "but the fact remains that I am and there's nothing anyone can do about it. I do not desire an adversarial relationship between us. Peter cares about you and wants you, and the rest of the House, to thrive. So do I. Therefore, I have an offer for you."

"What sort of offer?" James asked suspiciously. His danger alerts, and hackles, were both rising.

With a swift _Muffliatio!_ she blocked out the sounds from the rest of the Hog's Head. "It is straightforward. Lord Potter has signed a legal agreement renouncing his Headship of the House and passing it to you as Heir on the day of your 17th birthday."

"How did you know about that?!" he blurted without thinking.

"You think my husband keeps House secrets from me?" she sniffed. "But we digress. I propose that you sign your own legal agreement deferring your acceptance of the Headship, until it can be passed down to the next generation. Your eldest son would become Lord Potter upon reaching his majority."

"What?! Yeah I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you Durmstranger," he sneered, "supplanting me in my own House. I really expected you to be more subtle about your attempted line theft than asking me upfront to just hand over the keys to the kingdom."

"It is not my intention to cut you out of anything," Zabini replied patiently. "The Lordship would never depart from your direct family line. You haven't heard the rest of my offer. In exchange, we will sign a contract betrothing my eldest daughter to your eldest son. That will ensure line continuation and join our families together into one. Preventing the development of branch houses or cadet lines, and all the backbiting and jealousy that they engender. I will also sign, along with Lord Black, a contract ensuring that you receive a generous monthly allowance for the rest of your days that will provide you with the resources to live whatever sort of life you desire, without the need to worry about money or employment. You could focus on a professional Quidditch career, or explore the world, or set up a pranking supplies business, or run children's parties, or simply live as a wealthy gadabout and man of leisure. Whatever you desire."

"If you're suggesting I'm some sort of lazy layabout who refuses to do a day of work in my–"

"Of course," she continued smoothly, "I can also use my family's extensive contacts to help you find jobs and parts of the world that desperately need the help of a powerful pureblooded wizard. Lands in Africa that are terrorised by nundu, places in Russia that are filled with rogue dragons and giants who need to be slain, orphanages and poorhouses in chaos that need to be reorganised, and most of all, battles that need to be fought and dark wizards to be brought to justice. This current war is only one example. Removing the threat in Mahōnihon is our highest priority, but there are many more conflict zones around the world, filled with people who cry out for a saviour."

"You make me sound like an aspiring superhero," he mumbled.

"Regardless of what your dreams may be, the choices before you are: sitting here playing dolls and quaffles with a bunch of high school students, achieving nothing of any particular note (considering all the most dangerous people in Hogwarts have already been removed by my husband) or taking me up on my offer and doing something _actually useful_ with whatever time you have left on this plane of existence."

"I can't just up and leave Britain whenever I feel like it! My parents –"

"– don't even have to know you ever left," Zabini finished, beginning to unbutton her blouse.

"Hey wait a minute!" James objected in alarm at this shameless hussy's behaviour. They were standing in the middle of a crowded conference room for Merlin's sake! "I may be a bit of a horndog, but there's no way I'm going to agree to a tumble with you in exchange for doing what you want …" James trailed off as he saw the golden device she'd fished out of her impressive cleavage. His eyes widened. "A time turner! How did you get a Class I restricted item?"

"A gift from my Lord Potter," she purred, "along with many other useful items. As a proper Head should, he provides the faithful members of his household with valuable and powerful tools to complete their tasks. With this, you can travel for up to five weeks and return to Hogwarts the same day you left, with nobody the wiser."

"You're trying to trick me somehow, but I'm not going to fall for it!"

She cocked an eyebrow. "Am I? Are my terms so onerous? You hate filling out paperwork, you hate dealing with finances, you hate negotiating with the goblins, you hate instructing lawyers, you hate attending meetings, you hate spending time with stuffy old Wizengamot members. Being Head of House mandates copious amounts of all six of the above. There have been some whose entire lives have been eaten up by paperwork. I don't think anyone has seen Lords Bones or Diggory in public for decades for that very reason. Is that _really_ the life you want to live? I'm offering to take it all off your hands."

"And you know all this about me how?" he drawled.

"It's perfectly obvious; you don't hide your feelings in the slightest," she replied offhandedly.

"I … I'm going to have to think about this …" he muttered to himself.

"Take what time you need. Consider your participation in our upcoming jaunt to Forks as an appetiser of the kind of benefits I can provide you with. A taste of the life of adventure and excitement, and most of all, of making a difference in the world, that I can offer you."

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.

Hermione adjusted her Omnoculars to get a better view of the terrain. Of the motley assortment of vampires gathered in loose clumps that dotted the field and wooded hills surrounding the Cullens' mansion. Beside her, Xiomara and Alice were peering through their own pairs.

"It's just like a night out at the opera," Hermione joked to the Italiana and Englishwoman.

"I once saw an opera performed by vampires," Xiomara mused. "It was in Paris. The climax of the final act of _Tristan and Isolde_ featured both of the leads being fed upon until they were dead; for extra realism, you understand."

"Er … right … hopefully the same doesn't happen tonight …"

"Can we have a gander?" James asked Alice. "I can't see anything from this distance. Just a bunch of black dots on a white meadow."

"You, Marlene and Gilderoy should've brought your own," Alice said primly. "What, did you think we were going to pitch a wizarding tent right in the middle of the battlefield so you could have a good view of the bloody carnage with your naked eyes?"

"I protest," snarked Marlene, "that was a Yule present to both of us."

"One you said you'd never be seen dead with, it being such an ugly device and all. I remember it explicitly."

James and Marlene sighed and settled back down.

"See anything yet?" Ron asked impatiently.

"No, they're all still standing around. No Volturi yet," said Alice.

"They're not even going to dig in? Set up some strong points, reinforce their front lines, lay out traps and barriers, dig some trenches, organise staging positions for their reserves?" the former Junior Auror demanded.

"Doesn't look like it," Hermione commented after a minute of scrutiny.

"This isn't going to end well," Ron muttered shaking his head. "And they haven't even spotted our crows' nest, either – they haven't, have they?" he asked, handling his wand nervously.

"Considering we haven't been desanguinated or imprisoned in a very small dog-carrier, I'm going to say, probably not."

He sighed in relief. "You see, it's Amateur Hour. If these Volturi Guardsvamps are even halfway competent, this is going to be the most one-sided fight since Mundanus Muggle challenged Merlin to a duel over grazing rights at Tintagel."

"Edward Cullen has arrived," Xiomara murmured.

"That's him?" Hermione said. "Now there's a face I never thought I'd see again!"

"What is it?" demanded Ron.

"This vampire looks exactly like Cedric Diggory!"

"Really? Let me see!"

Hermione generously allowed her boyfriend to use her Omnoculars to view the doppelgänger for himself.

"Damn, he really does resemble Cedric! Uncanny valley!"

Hermione retrieved her magical goggles and returned to her scrutiny of the field. "I see a black-haired female," she announced. "She's taking up a position on the centre front."

"So is it _her_?"

Hermione's voice hardened. "Yes, it's Bellatrix Black. No doubt about it."

Ron sighed. "Even dropped into the middle of muggle nowhere, that woman never stops causing us headaches! What other 'muggle' would spend the last two years of her life doing nothing but cause metamagicophysical trouble! Not only shack up with the local vampire coven, not only shack up with the local werewolf cult, not only get herself turned into an undead blood-sucker, but also manage to single-handed kickstart the biggest vampire civil war in several hundred years!"

Zabini cast him a quick glance. "Eleazar tells me that your Bellatrix was also involved in instigating an inter-coven turf fight in Phoenix, near-exposure of the existence of vampires to the muggles of Volterra, a near-war between the vampires and the tribe of werewolf animagi, and an _actual_ battle royale between covens _and_ between the animagi, right here in Washington."

Ron groaned. "'What could go wrong?' indeed … I think that witch has had more exciting sixth and seventh years in muggle school than even we did at Hogwarts! Why did we ever underestimate the vortex of chaos that is Bella? I'm sorry, honey."

"For what?"

"It was my idea to dump her here. I swear, I had no idea this place was a hotbed of vamps and animagi!"

"It's okay, I thought we wouldn't have to worry about her anymore either. We both got overconfident." Hermione adjusted her Omnoculars. "She's moving into the centre with the rest of the Olympic coven," Hermione reported, "with The Thing on her back. Just behind the first defensive line."

"I see them," Xiomara replied. "Eleazar is in the forward rank in front of her. Carmen is nearby." The girl's voice was tight with stress.

"I'm sure they'll be fine," James said awkwardly.

Zabini didn't answer, but her jaw clenched tighter.

"Here comes one of the animagi. Merlin, it's the biggest werewolf I've ever seen, gotta be at least triple Remus' height and mass! Maybe more." Hermione stared in awe at the giant russet beast that trotted lightly along the snow, leaving barely a footprint. "It's flanking Bella, Eleazar and Her. Wait a time-turning-tic, something else is out there in the woods!"

"The Volturi advance guard have arrived," Zabini said grimly. The three witches could see the numerous shapes flowing with liquid speed out of the treeline. They moved in loose rank to take up position facing the rows of defenders. No man's land was a distance of about 500 feet. The creatures were dressed in white and grey robes, blending into the snowfall and making it difficult for the observers to discern any features, or do a bodycount. The next wave was easier to discern, they were wearing black cloaks with red and gold trim that stood out starkly against the fresh snow. "I see the Conclave, all five of them. Looks like Alice Cullen's visions were correct after all."

"The Guard are forming into maniples," Alice observed. "Slowly. They don't seem to be in any hurry."

"The pace of the invincible," Xiomara muttered.

"What's that?"

"Nothing, just something Eleazar said to me once."

"I count 32 of the black-robed ones, including the five Conclave members. I assume they're the elite Guard," Hermione said. "No idea how many infantry in support."

"I concur," agreed Alice.

"How many defenders?" demanded Ron.

"19 forward troops, seven in reserve, plus 10 werewolf animagi," Alice replied. "Wait, here come another seven animagi to join the others."

"43 against over 100, maybe," Ron mused. "3 to 1 odds, and no home-field advantage. Not good."

"Mexican standoff," murmured Hermione.

"Something is happening," Xiomara said. "Mind magic is being deployed by one of the Volturi Guard."

"How can you tell?" queried Hermione. "I don't see anything."

"Mage Sight," the Italian beauty said concisely.

"From this distance?" Marlene blurted in incredulity. "And without an incantation?"

"I do not require spellcasting to activate it," she replied loftily. "My husband is not the only person whose ancestors bound magical talents permanently to their bloodline."

"What a brilliant idea; never to be caught off-guard by invisible jinxes or traps." Alice's admiration was palpable.

"It has its uses," Xiomara said modestly. "One of which is to tell me that one of the Volturi females is attempting a psychic assault … it must be Chelsea. Eleazar told me she is used as an opening salvo, to rend their opponents' social and interpersonal bonds. To destroy their cohesion by removing their love for each other …"

"Horrible," Alice shuddered. "To have your loved ones cut out of your heart …"

"I can think of some advantages of that spell," James muttered morosely.

The other two boys stared quizzically, but the sixth-year Gryffindor boy refused to elaborate.

"Her magic … it's being blocked!" Xiomara suddenly announced.

"How?" Hermione frowned, eyes searching in vain for a hint of what Zabini was describing.

"A magical shield has formed over a large section of the defenders' terrain. It's strong enough to deflect the bombardment … Jane has begun her psychic assault now … it is also being blocked successfully."

"What sort of mind magics does Jane specialise in?" asked Hermione.

"Pain. Indescribable pain. Some say that she can induce sensations equivalent to the Cruciatus Curse."

Hermione went green. "I'm sorry I asked," she muttered.

"Now it is Alec's turn to try to breach the shield … I see … I see a transparent haze rolling over the meadow like mist." Xiomara's eyes widened. "The bender, Benjamin, is taking action. He's stirring the wind – he seeks to bend the air to blow the mist away.

"Is it working?" breathed James. The boys waited with bated breath.

"No. It has no effect on the mist …" she trailed off as the three girls witnessed a deep, narrow fissure opening up across no man's land. The ground writhed and twisted and tore up on either side of the rift. They could feel the tremors in the earth even from their crows' nest atop their tree. "Seems he's shifted to earth bending now … the mist has reached the shield … it is also blocked! Never have I heard of such a psychic barrier. It is as if someone has found a way to project their Occlumency shields out into the real world! I must discover the secret of this spell!"

"Who's casting it?" Alice asked.

"I cannot tell. Not even my Mage Sight can penetrate the barrier; all within it appear as muggles to me!" Xiomara grit her teeth in frustration.

Alice opened her mouth to say something, but snapped it shut as five new vampires sprinted into the field and joined the defenders. All dark-haired. Two pale, three very swarthy. They moved with blinding speed.

"Alice and Jasper Cullen have arrived!" Zabini announced. "And they've brought more allies. They've entered the shield; I cannot see anything more."

"Each side is sending a party out to parley," Hermione added.

There was a long period of silence.

Finally Ron could take the suspense no longer. "Alright, spill already! I can't take it any longer! What's going on, Hermione?"

"Nothing! Nothing is going on, Ronald! They're just standing around and talking! I promise I will tell you if anything else happens, okay?" his girlfriend snapped testily.

Ron flinched, but quickly rallied. "Well in that case, I'm going to take a nap. Wake me when everyone's stopped yakking and started warring."

With that, he lay himself down on the wooden floor of the platform, and promptly drifted off. An indeterminate amount of time later, he was roused to reality by Marlene shaking his shoulder.

"Blgah?"

"Yes, it's all over," the (slightly) younger McKinnon twin replied.

"It's done?" Ron demanded, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "How many left alive?"

"All. All of them live. They did nothing but talk, and now the Volturi and their Guard have departed."

"Well, that was anticlimactic. Not even a one-on-one champions' duel. What a gyp!" Ron grumbled.

"Honestly, Ronald! This isn't the Quidditch World Cup on the Wireless!" Hermione chided impatiently.

"I figured Bellatrix would at least try to kill one or two of the Volturi as an opening gambit," he said defensively. "Ensure there's a few vampires less in the world. She's picked a fine time to learn restraint!"

"A lesson learned better late than never, non?"

The six wand-wavers started at the unfamiliar voice. Jerking around, they spotted two faces hanging upside down outside their treetops platform.

"Eleazar! Carmen! You are unhurt?" squealed Xiomara, hurrying over to them.

" _Kol b'seder!_ Nobody has a scratch; this balagan has been successfully resolved without bloodshed, mi pequeña," smiled Carmen.

The two vampires pushed off their branches, twisted their lithe forms in mid-air to drop lightly onto their feet on the platform.

"Now that you are here amici, I need your assistance – I need an introduction to the bambina, Renesmee."

The two vampires shared an uneasy glance. "I don't think that is wise, mija. The Child is dangerous! One touch and she will wrap your volition around her little finger. Even now, we feel the overwhelming need to care for and protect her. It is a consuming fire that burns endlessly within us, even as we speak."

"I shall be careful. I have practised Occlumency since I was six years of age. But it is imperative I speak with her; her aid could change the course of the war! Yalla!"

"And I need to speak with the Egyptian Benjamin," Hermione piped up. "His help would be invaluable."

"I have a bad feeling about this," Eleazar muttered to his wife, looking over the sea of implacable young faces.

.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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.

The trees flashed past as the two vampires leaped from branch to branch to boulder, their burdens not slowing them down a fraction. Tucked under each of Eleazar's arms were nestled Xiomara and James. Ron clung to his back piggy-back style, his arms and legs clutched tightly over the vampire's neck and waist. Alongside Eleazar ran Carmen, who was carrying in a similar manner, Hermione, Alice and Marlene. They ran together for some distance, until Carmen Zabini peeled off to the right to head to the Cullens' mansion where Benjamin and his coven were staying. Eleazar Sanguini continued on straight. Eventually they left all signs of civilisation behind.

"My father Carlisle told me that Bella, Edward and The Child have retired to Edward's cottage in the mountains to celebrate their victory. I have been there before." He grimaced. "Hopefully we do not intrude at an awkward time. And hopefully they are in a mood to hear your words."

"Maybe he has a point," said Ron nervously. "The last thing we want to face are a family of cranky, nigh-invulnerable blood-suckers in the middle of the night!"

"The immortal undead do not sleep; and they have infinite time to sate their carnal lusts," Xiomara replied, unmoved. "Meanwhile, war rages around our loved ones; we owe it to them to see it to as swift a conclusion as possible."

Ron couldn't argue with that.

Travel by vampire was nowhere near as rapid as by phoenix, yet Eleazar was no slouch, and it was a mere 15 minutes later that the Sanguini nodded with his head to indicate their destination. The cottage was a picture-postcard of perfect peace in the silver-blue night, set into the steep side of a mountain.

"We have arrived," announced, slowing down. He deposited his three burdens near the front door and approached. His sharp vampiric ears caught the almost-silent sound of Kindred movement inside. Soft words reached him. "A night for celebrations," husked a masculine voice, followed by the sound of lips smacking. Alarmed, Eleazar hurried to knock on the door before things inside could progress any further.

.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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.

Ron couldn't help but stare at what had once been a sleek engine of destruction, the Doom of All Muggles, the Valkyrie of Villainy, the most feared and hated Death Eater of all time, Bellatrix Lestrange. She was looking so … so … domestic! Even though two years had passed (from her point of view), the changes were dramatic. Clad in silken pink nightgown, hair casually tied back into a ponytail, leaning back casually on the sofa, legs tucked under her. Though clearly profoundly irritated by their presence in her love-nest, Bella looked far more relaxed and even-tempered than he'd ever seen her. Who knew that getting one's whole life obliviated, being turned into a vampire, bearing a bizarre half-vampire child, and averting a major vampire war did such wonders for one's sanity and temperament!? Perhaps he should contact St Mungos about this discovery.

And sitting beside her was her husband, the Cedric Diggory doppelgänger. Cedric and Bellatrix, now _there_ was a weird pairing! Just when Ron thought he'd reached the bottom of the rabbit hole in this crazy dimension, there always seemed to be a few more feet to fall!

The vampire girl was barely paying attention to what Xiomara, Eleazar and Edward were saying around her; her placid yellow eyes were almost entirely focused on the small form of her daughter in her lap, who in turn was entirely focused on sucking her left foot. Bella idly stroked the girl's ebony locks. It seemed the Black family genes were still strong, and ran true in this latest generation. Ron had to suppress a snigger thinking about how Orion and Walburga would react to discovering that the next generation of Blacks comprised a dark creature and a dark creature hybrid! A hybrid who was the pretext for the aforementioned barely-averted vampire war. How in Godric's gallbladder were they supposed to convince these strangers to uproot themselves across the Pacific to help end a war in a foreign land that they had no stake in whatsoever?

Ron's speculations were interrupted as Edward stood, a smooth liquid motion, and suggested they continue the conversation outside.

 _Don't want your sprog hearing your discussions and getting ideas of her own, eh mate?_ Ron thought to himself. _Probably a good idea._ Then was surprised when the vampire turned to him.

"Yes, that's exactly it," Edward confirmed softly.

Ron cocked an eyebrow. "You're a legilimens eh, Cedri– I mean, Edward?" he commented, subtly raising his Occlumency shields.

"Something like that," replied Cedward. "This is a serious matter that requires much consideration, there will be no snap decisions or recklessness this time. Come." The thin, pale immortal boy led the way outside the cottage.

.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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.

"And this is a cow," James read from the Big Book of Farm Animals. "Do you know what sound a cow makes?"

"Not really," Renesmee replied. "This area has a shortage of cows."

"Uh ... I think you're supposed to say 'moo'?" James said uncertainly. "I'm not too sure though, I haven't spent much time around muggle kids your age. Vampire kids neither. The only experience I have with this sort of thing is babysitting Nymphadora, and she was only ever interested in Quidditch or imitating the pictures of celebrities in Witch Weekly."

"Why don't we just play poker or something?" she suggested.

"Would that be suitable for a kid your age?" James questioned. "The Book says it's appropriate up to age three ..."

"You could be the cool uncle that doesn't play by the rules," Renesmee offered.

"I would but then Eleazar, Gilderoy and Jacob wouldn't have anything to do," James replied sagely.

"Jacob doesn't count, he's my man-slave," Renesmee stated matter-of-factly. "Eleazar is the stuffy worrywart uncle. And as for Gilderoy … uh … I'm not sure how to say this, but I think he wants to be the creepy uncle that no-one talks about."

"Uh, Nessie, I want you to know that Lockhart wasn't always like this ..."

"He was better at hiding it?" Renesmee ventured.

"Probably, and much more creative," James agreed. "He was always a strutting ponce, but lately he keeps going further off the reservation. He's obsessed with mind magics and food these days. Worse, the guy who used to shack up with all the perfect 10's of Hogwarts is now the enthusiastic boytoy of a hideous older toad-woman. To be frank, I think getting those memories from the future really did a number on the poor sod." He shook his head in pity.

"What does all that mean?" demanded the tiny dhampir.

"Uh … nothing, never mind. Forget I said anything," James backpedalled hastily, realising he'd drifted into age-inappropriate territory. "So what d'you wanna do now?"

"Why don't we climb to the top of the peak and look at the stars together?"

"That sounds nice, but I don't want your parents to exsanguinate me," James replied dryly.

"You know they have super-hearing and can run 40 miles an hour, right? They'd be able to find us in about five seconds flat."

"Somehow I don't think that'd placate them for me leaving the cottage with their infant daughter."

"I'll explain everything if they ask. Besides, what's a mere human going to be able to do to me?"

"Gee thanks."

"Or we can say we went to the highest point to keep an eye out for enemies approaching …"

"Hmmm … Ah, to hell with it! I'm fed up with being responsible," James said suddenly, completely oblivious to the irony in that statement. "If the others won't be the rebel uncles, then I will!"

"Yay!" Renesmee cheered, "that's the spirit!"

Taking the little vampire hybrid in his arms the way he used to do with Nymphadora, he carried her out the back door and up the little trail that led to the peak. It was steep going for a mere mortal, and James found himself panting and gasping by the time they reached the summit, much to the dhampir's amusement. They found a comfortable spot and settled down to observe Nature's majesty. Down below they could hear wafting up the soft murmur of voices of the rest of the group as they debated weighty matters in front of the cottage.

"Can I ask you something?" Renesmee asked suddenly.

"Shoot."

"You strangers … I've been expecting you, you know."

"You have?" James asked in shock.

"I have. You come here to talk to my parents, but really you want me."

It wasn't a question. James answered it anyway. "Yes." There was no point dissembling or beating around the bush with Legilimens and empaths.

"Why? What do you people want from me?"

"A fair question. You know how Zabini said there's a big war far, far away?"

She nodded firmly.

"In short, we want you to come with us and … make the bad people love you and want to protect you. Then you can tell them you don't want them to fight anymore and," he snapped his fingers, "hey presto! No more war! Everyone can go home."

"Just like that? I can't wave my hands like magic and _make_ a bunch of complete strangers love me, you know!" she huffed, tiny arms folding crossly.

"No-one's saying that," James lied.

"I'm serious! If I touch someone, I can show them my thoughts and memories and look at theirs. That's it!"

"Of course," James agreed, not believing this for a second.

"It's true," she pouted. "People argue less when they can feel each others' minds directly."

"I'm sure."

"Grrrr. You're humouring me."

"Not a bit of it! I think you haven't fully grown into your powers yet. As you get older, I'm sure you'll develop all sorts of cool new talents," he said soothingly.

"I suppose," the little dhampir conceded grudgingly.

"Just you wait, over time you'll surprise us all with what you can do!" Maybe this wasn't so different from dealing with Nymphadora after all.

"There's more," she insisted. "Alice told me a few things earlier today. Said I would be approached by foreigners with strange requests. Why me? Why us? Why now?"

"I don't know any of the details," James said slowly, "The command council of the HAHA are keeping them pretty close to the chest. But what little I know is, the Volturi Conclave were allies of Grindelwald and his forces in the 1940's. After his defeat, they retreated in on themselves, and forced all the covens in Europe to stay neutral in all subsequent wizarding and muggle conflicts. That sure helped us out a lot in the current British blood war, let me tell you! Zabini was originally planning to approach the Conclave for assistance. But now that Grindelwald's back, there's a risk that the Volturi may ally themselves with him again."

"What would they gain?" Renesmee's nose scrunched.

"A long way away is a place called Japan. And in the middle of Japan is a place called the wild regions. As its name suggests, there's very little law and order. From what I understand, the inhabitants spend most of their time fighting each other. That's where Voldemort and Grindelwald have set up camp. If they manage to carve out their own empire there, what's to stop their old allies Aro and Marcus and the rest doing the same thing? Vampirekind has spent its entire existence hiding away from human civilisation, just like it hides from the sun. Zabini told me that the Volturi are big patrons of the arts, but that's hardly a substitute for actually being a part of society, if you ask me. The chance to build an actual, bona fide vampire state out in the open, not some shadowy half-kingdom, may be extremely tempting for them." He cast a glance down at the child nestled in his lap. "Especially since the GVC have now thwarted them 'acquiring' you, your parents and Alice Cullen. That must've given them a reputational black eye. If I were the Volturi, I'd be looking for a way to regain their lost face right quick, before the rest of the covens start getting ideas about launching their own insurrections."

"And stopping the war will prevent the Volturi from building this state or empire or whatever?" she inquired, in her high-pitched voice.

"There's no guarantee," James admitted. "But with no war on, any pretext for invading a country would be gone. And without non-vampire allies to watch their backs, Eleazar thinks they'd deem it too risky to attempt. If that's true, then yes, there'd be a repeat of what happened here in Forks today: the Volturi'd be stymied from the get-go and be forced to do nothing."

They sat in silence for a while. James let the child absorb his words. He hadn't the slightest idea how intelligent or mature the dhampir infant was at this stage in her development, so he had no clue how much she understood of what he said.

She nodded. "So that's the story. No wonder Mum and Dad didn't want me around to hear it."

"Oh." Right. He'd forgotten about that part.

"Don't stress, I would've found out soon anyway."

"Can I … can I ask you something?" James began, shifting uncomfortably, eyes fixed firmly on the Dogstar.

"Yes."

"One of the vampires you guys faced today, in the Volturi Guard. Chelsea."

"What of her?"

"Zabini said she used her mind magics to … break people's bonds with others. That she could make them stop loving each other. I'm told you're some sort of super-Legilimens; a type nobody's seen before. Are you … are you able to copy what Chelsea can do?"

Renesmee frowned. "I've no idea. What a horrible thing to do to someone!"

"It can be," he said carefully. "If the person were unwilling, like your grandpa Carlisle. But what if the person wanted you to? And was happy about it ...?"

Her beady eyes widened. "Why do you want me to do this?" she demanded. "Tell me why or I won't try."

"Hey that rhymes," he smiled weakly. Nessie glared back at him. James sighed. "Fine, you win. You see, for the longest time, I've been … in love with this one girl, see? Obsessed may be a better word, in all honesty. Ever since I met her in first year really. I thought … I was convinced it was Fate or Destiny or something for us to be together … Merlin, I've no idea if you even know what I'm talking about …"

"Of course I do, Jacob is mine."

"Uh … right. Anyway, I tried everything I could think of to get her to love me back. Turns out I didn't really know what I was doing. Everything I did seemed to annoy her and push her away from me …" He sighed again. "If only I had your powers, eh?"

"Love sounds hard," the tiny dhampir pontificated.

"Very. But it's not something you'll ever have to worry about, I think. Especially if you've already netted yourself a man-slave. At age one or less, to boot!" he chuckled weakly. "The problem is, she found somebody else. She huffs and puffs about it all the time, but everyone with a single eye in their head can see a mile off how hung up on him she is. To make it worse, he's one of my best mates."

Renesmee winced in sympathy.

"I … didn't handle it well. It's taken a while, but I've kinda realised how big of a berk I've been. I've been treating them both like it was their fault, like … I dunno, that I was entitled to my dream-girl, and they both owed it to me to break things off and make sure she and I were together like we were supposed to be. And now they're all so far away, I can't even apologise for my behaviour face-to-face. I guess time and distance really do lend perspective."

"They must make a nice couple," she said wistfully.

James gave a barking laugh. "Nice? They're a _terrible_ couple! It's the most bizarre, mismatched pairing I've ever seen or heard of in my life! What's worse is that they're not some star-crossed pair; they're part of some weird cluster relationship that involves at least three other girls!"

"What? People can _do_ that!?" Nessie's eyes bugged out.

He shrugged. "Some do."

"That can't be correct. I've never heard of five people together at once," she frowned. "Grandpa Carlisle is with Grandma Esmee, Rosalie is with Emmett, Alice is with Jasper, Grandpa Charlie is with Sue, Carmen is with Eleazar, Mom is with Pop, and I'm with Jacob," she said with the air of one who's given the final word.

"It's rare, but it's what some folks like to do. Don't ask me to explain it, because I don't understand it any more than you do. The point is, I just … I can't let her go. I don't know what's wrong with me, I know it's pointless. They've been running around together for, what, half a year by now, and by the time they get back from Japan they'll no doubt have shared all sorts of amazing and hair-raising and bonding experiences that I don't have a prayer of competing with. But my heart just can't get over her. I …" he struggled to find the words. "I don't want to be a jackass any more. I want to stop hurting. I just want it all to … to go away!"

Renesmee pondered this.

"You don't have to decide right away. All I ask is that you consider it."

She sighed. "Alright, I'll give it a shot."

"What? Really?"

"I don't like people suffering. Especially good people. You don't think of yourself as a good person, but you are," she said matter-of-factly. "Now lean down."

He complied. The little hybrid reached up to place her tiny hand on his forehead.

"Relax. This may feel weird."

.


End file.
